


Sing Me South

by TanyaReed



Series: Spies [2]
Category: Relic Hunter, due South
Genre: Action/Adventure, F/M, Gen, NaNoWriMo, Sequel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-24
Updated: 2016-10-27
Packaged: 2017-12-03 12:23:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 16
Words: 45,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/698199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TanyaReed/pseuds/TanyaReed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Meg and Frannie go on their second spy mission.  Guest starring Derek Lloyd from Relic Hunter.</p><p>Sequel to my story "Frannie's Lament".</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AnnieM](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnieM/gifts).



> So, there are ten years between Frannie's Lament and this story. Make of that what you will. Frannie's Lament was about Meg and Frannie's first mission as partners. You might want to read that one first, since I make several references to it, and you'd know how they got to this point, but I think it also stands on its own. I've been wanting to write this story for years. Originally, it was supposed to include Cloutier and Agent Ford, and I even considered bringing the villain back from the first story. None of these things happened. I ended up writing this for my Nanowrimo 2012 story, so it's a long one. I'm going to be doing some serious editing, so hopefully, I'll catch all the inconsistencies. 
> 
> Anyway, I really hope you like this story. I was always disappointed that Due South didn't give the women characters a lot to do except stuff to get laughed at. I can count Meg's and Frannie's serious episodes on a hand a piece. Because of this, I love giving them some meat to their stories and some substance to their characters. My two spy stories are the result.
> 
> And to avoid any confusion, in case you didn't read the first story, Meg's code name is "Ice Queen", and Frannie's is "Godmother".

“All packed?”

Meg turned at Fraser's question, her eyes focusing on the tender expression on his face. Warmth filled her, spreading through her body and making her smile. Even after all they'd been through recently, she could hardly believe he was finally looking at her that way.

It had been a long time coming. Five years of unsurmountable circumstances. Three of those years, she had been his superior officer, and it would have been wrong to show him anything but her professional face. They had accepted this and, when the time came, parted with nothing more than a brief acknowledgment of what could have been. At the time, Meg had never expected to see Benton Fraser again.

The funny thing about life was that it was full of surprises. And coincidences. Just two months before, they had run into each other again, and things had...changed. Even though Meg's life was in Toronto—well, the world, really—and Ben's was still in Chicago, they had decided to see where their new freedom led.

For the past three weeks, she had been staying with Fraser, sharing his life when he wasn't working and his bed at night. She'd never been happier. Meg found that she didn't mind Chicago as much when she didn't have to be the boss, when she wasn't in charge of a Consulate or wasn't even a Mountie...and when Fraser loved her.

Meg's smile grew as this thought went through her mind, and he answered with a slight smile of his own.

“Yes. I don't think I've forgotten anything.”

“If you did, you'll just have to come back and get it,” he said seriously, but his eyes twinkled.

She laughed softly. “That could be arranged.”

Meg picked up her suitcase and made her way through the small apartment. It was nothing like the tiny cesspit Fraser had lived in during her first year in Chicago, but it wasn't exactly Versailles either. Still, it suited him. It was plain, simple, and clean. If an apartment could be honest, this one was, and it had no pretensions or fancy ornamentation.

“Thank you for having me, Ben,” she said, snagging her purse on her way to the door.

“It was my pleasure,” he replied, and she could see that he meant it.

“Yeah.” She winked, feeling playful and wanting to push impending sadness away. “Mine too.”

She was rewarded with a small blush that raced across his face and reddened his ears.

When they reached the door, they paused, just looking at each other. 

Meg felt her smile and good humour fade as she faced the reality of their separation. In just a few minutes, Ray Vecchio would be outside waiting to take her to the airport, and it was hard to say when she would see Ben again.

As if he felt her shift in mood, Ben was suddenly reaching for her. His arms surrounded her and pulled her against him. She sighed and hugged him back, breathing in his scent of Old Spice and Needsfoot Oil and letting the feel of his body imprint on hers.

“I'm going to miss you,” she admitted softly.

“Be careful,” he answered just as softly. “Don't take any unnecessary risks.”

“You mean like you take every day?” She kissed the side of his neck and started pulling away.

He gave her one more quick hug and then released her. “You'll call me when you get back?”

“I'll call you before I go.”

“Thank you kindly.”

“Don't thank me for being selfish.”

Ben looked pleased at this. Meg touched his cheek one last time before opening the door. Somehow, she managed to keep emotion from her face as she reluctantly said, “Good-bye, Ben.”

His face went still. “Good-bye, Meg.”

She nodded before turning her back on him and walking away.

XXX

Meg was still thinking about her good-bye to Ben two days later when she was sitting in Frannie's very yellow kitchen. Her friend and partner was flitting about making coffee and gathering cake and cookies.

"How was your vacation with Benton?" Frannie asked, as if reading Meg's mind.

"It was fine."

Frannie turned around and eyed her thoughtfully. "Fine?"

"Yes, fine...and rather pleasant."

Frannie snorted and brought over Meg's coffee. "This is me you're talking too. Cut the ice queen crap."

"But I am the Ice Queen, Francesca." A slight smile came to the corner of Meg's mouth as she said the words.

"Yeah, and I'm really a Godmother. Now, spill."

"Aren't you Tina's Godmother?"

"Meg."

Meg busied herself taking a sip of her coffee so she wouldn't have to look Frannie in the eye. "Wouldn't you rather talk about your visit with Kowalski?" She knew that Ray had been up to see Frannie over the last weekend.

Frannie grinned at her as she plunked down into her chair. "Meg, you were gone for three weeks. I want to hear about you first." The laughter suddenly went out of her eyes and they flicked to Meg's arm. "How's your shoulder?"

Self consciously, Meg moved it slightly. "Still a little sore, but I've been cleared for duty." Frannie's expression remained solemn, so Meg continued, "And I had a very nice time with Fraser. That's all you're going to get from me on the subject."

The serious look dropped away and the grin was back. "We'll see about that. I have ways of making you talk."

"Why would you want to? Shouldn't you be concentrating on your...relations with Kowalski?"

"He's so sweet, Meg."

"Who?"

"Ray. I didn't know..."

Frannie was interrupted by the shrill ringing of her phone. She went completely still and her face blanked. Frannie was new to Toronto, and the only people who knew she was alive from her old life were her immediate family, Ben, and Ray Kowalski.

"You should answer that," Meg said calmly, but her stomach jumped.

Frannie nodded and went to a bright pink phone that hung next to the refrigerator. "Hello?...Yes, sir...Yes, sir...She's here with me...When?...Yes, we'll be there...Good-bye."

She looked almost stunned as she hung up.

"What is it?" Meg asked, though she was pretty sure she knew.

"They have our new assignment. We have to be there in an hour to find out what it is."

Meg frowned. "Well, then I guess we'd better finish our coffee and go."

XXX

Meg didn't feel like the same person who had been lying contentedly in her lover's arms just a few days before or the one who had just been drinking coffee and gossiping in her friend's kitchen. As she went into the red brick, sombre building, she felt herself donning an old, familiar persona. The Ice Queen came back easily, and she smoothed Meg's face and made her movements clipped and precise. The cold seeped into her, burning away traces of emotion and warmth.

Beside her, Frannie was bursting with energy. Even though Meg wasn't looking at her, she could feel it coming off her friend in waves. 

As they strode towards their boss's office, Meg thought about the contrast they must present. Light and dark. Ice and fire. Stoicism and excitement. Even their clothes—Meg was dressed in a simple tan blouse and skirt, while Frannie had on hip hugging, tight jeans and a belly-exposing cropped shirt—were completely different.

Their boss's name was Layton, and he looked up at their approach. The door to his office was open and the room beyond was even neater than Meg's own had always been. When Layton saw them, he got to his feet.

“Thatcher.” He nodded. “Morris.” He nodded again.

“Hello, sir,” Meg said evenly, refusing to betray any hint of curiosity. Frannie was exuding enough for the both of them.

“How's the shoulder?”

“Fine, sir.”

“Good. Come with me to the briefing room.”

He waved at them vaguely and started down the nearest hallway without checking to see if they were behind him. His attitude gave Meg an irrational urge to stay where she was, but she pushed it away. 

They followed Layton into the conference room and joined him a the large table. It had room for at least twelve people, but the three of them were the only ones there.

“As you might have guessed,” Layton said bluntly, “your mandatory rest period is over. I have received both your physical and your psych records, and it has been agreed that the two of you are fit for duty.”

“This was in question?” Meg asked calmly.

“It's always difficult to know how an agent's first mission will affect him...or her. We needed to be sure you were ready.”

“And?” Meg asked, arching an eyebrow.

“And something's come up that the two of you are uniquely qualified for.”

“Another instance where women will blend in.” It was a statement and not a question. Their last assignment had been undercover as an international criminal's personal assistant and mistress.

“Indeed.” At least he didn't deny it.

“So, what's our assignment?” Frannie asked impatiently. “Am I gonna have to sleep with another sleezo or what?”

“Have the two of you heard of the Music Man?”

“Like that Billy Joel song?” Frannie frowned.

“No, Francesca,” Meg told her. “That was 'Piano Man'.”

“I'm talking about the agent.” Layton slapped a folder on the table and flipped it open.

“CIA, CSIS, or NACT?”

Meg and Frannie were part of a North American experiment. Their organization had ties to the CIA and the CSIS, but it was its own entity and answered to neither.

“CIA. He's been undercover for five years, gathering information on the militant Marnian group known as La Terreur.”

“Marnian? Is that a place?” Frannie asked.

“It's a small tropical island off the coast of South America. Its people are of native, Spanish, and French descent. It's got a large tourist type main city and the rest of the island is mostly violent and lawless,” Meg explained.

“Then you've heard of Marna?” Meg couldn't tell if Layton was pleased or not.

“Yes, sir.”

“Their terrorist militia has been starting to threaten people from other countries. Diplomats have been captured and tortured, innocent families have been murdered, and threats have been given. The Music Man was supposed to gather as much information on La Terreur as he could, find out who its leader is, and then find him and kill him.”

He handed Meg a picture and she and Frannie studied it. The Music Man was young and roguish looking with a devastating smile.

“Things were going well until last week.”

Meg raised her eyes from the picture. “What happened?”

“The Music Man disappeared, taking five years of information and possible locations of La Terreur's headquarters with him. The group's activities are from all over the globe, and that intel is priceless.”

“You want us to find him.”

“We want you to find out what happened to him, to rescue him if he is alive, or to recover as much information as you can if he is dead.”

“There's something else, isn't there?”

He looked at them gravely, studying them quietly before continuing, “Are you prepared to do whatever this agency requires of you, Agent Thatcher?”

Meg felt her body grow cold. “You're talking about murder.”

His expression didn't change as he confirmed, “Yes.”

“Murder?” Frannie's face turned slightly green.

Meg kept her own expression as blank as Layton's as she said, “I have killed before.”

“I am aware of that. I know both of you have killed before...in self defense. Are you prepared to murder a man...or a woman, I suppose...in cold blood?”

“If I must.”

“Morris?” Once more, Layton used Frannie's new last name. It sounded foreign and wrong.

Frannie looked terrified for just an instant before her expression changed to stubborn. She crossed her arms and glared at Layton as she leaned back in her chair. “Depends on who you're talking about.”

“If the Music Man can't complete his mission, you'll have to do it for him. We need you to find out who's running La Terreur and kill him.”

“Do you think that will break the organization?” Meg asked.

“We're hoping that it will cause enough chaos to make it easier for the CIA to support the current leader in taking back his country. Right now, the only place he retains control is in the capital city.”

“Which is a tourist trap.”

“Yes, and made up of mostly English speaking foreigners.”

“We'll do whatever we have to. Right, Meg?” Frannie asked, the stubborn set still in her expression.

“We will. What are our covers?”

“Well,” Layton opened another folder, “the Music Man was working out of one of the largest hotels in Paradis de Mer. He was the bartender. We think that's the best angle for you as well.”

“You want us to be bartenders?” Frannie asked incredulously.

“Not exactly. We have arranged for the two of you to work in the lounge but, Thatcher, you will be the entertainment...”

Meg was reaching for the Music Man's picture once more but froze at this. “What kind of entertainment?”

“You're a lounge singer.”

She relaxed slightly. For a moment, she was afraid she'd have to pretend to be a hooker or a stripper. It was entirely possible. After all, Frannie had been Mario's lover on their last mission.

“And me?” Frannie asked, leaning forward. There was some excitement in her eyes.

“A cocktail waitress.”

She snorted. “Of course.”

Layton didn't answer this. He just continued, “You'll be Janet and Stephanie Scott, cousins from Digby, Nova Scotia. You've spent the last few years in Halifax, where Janet has been trying to break into the East Coast music scene and Stephanie has been waiting tables. The latter has suffered a bad break up, and the former knows the previous singer for the Paradise Hotel—Michelle Moore. That's how she found out about the job. Having a steady source of musical income on a tropical island appealed to her so the two of them moved to Paradis de Mer together. All the information you need to know is here.”

He rotated the folder so the contents were right side up for Meg and Frannie.

“All of Janet's and Stephanie's histories are here, as well as information on both Halifax and Digby. The name of Stephanie's ex-boyfriend is Ian Woon, and there's a picture and information on him as well.”

“He looks familiar,” Frannie commented.

“He should. He gave you fire arms training.”

She squinted. “Oh, yeah.”

“When do we leave?” Meg asked.

“Twelve hours. Make sure you have this memorized by then. You'll be met in Paradis de Mer by a CIA special forces agent named Derek Lloyd...”

“No code name?” Meg interrupted.

“Apparently, he doesn't need one. He's reported to be...How did Oliver put it? Smoke, I believe.”

“If this agent is so good, why are you sending us?”

Layton shrugged. “Apparently everything this Derek Lloyd does is on a need to know basis. At this moment, you don't need to know...and neither do I.”

Meg frowned. “And how will we know this Derek Lloyd?”

“Believe me, you'll know him when you see him.”


	2. Chapter 2

The first thing Meg noticed when she got off the small plane in Paradis de Mer was the humidity. Immediately, she felt a drop of sweat break out on her neck and drip slowly down her backbone. 

The second thing she noticed was a muscular, blue-eyed man looking both her and Frannie over in appreciation. He reminded her a bit of the missing Music Man, even though the Music Man had been several years younger and black. He smiled when he noticed Meg watching him, deepening the lines in his handsome face and bringing some light into otherwise dead eyes.

Meg realized with a jolt that this was probably Derek Lloyd. His air of machismo fit with most of the male agents she had met, and the muscles protruding from his shirt and shorts had probably been earned by years in the field.

He came forward and extended his hand. “Janet and Stephanie Scott?”

“Yes,” Meg said, ignoring his hand, “and you are?”

“Derek Lloyd.” He dropped his hand with a smirk. “My mother is a friend of your grandmother's and Mom made me promise to meet you at the airport and give you a ride. I'm staying at the Paradise Hotel. Do you know it?”

“That's where we're headed,” Frannie told him in a much friendlier voice than Meg had used. Maybe she hadn't minded him undressing her with his eyes as much as Meg had.

“Great! Maybe I can show you around Paradis de Mer.”

“I'd like that.” Frannie smiled.

Meg rolled her eyes and headed towards luggage pick up. She didn't know if Lloyd's attitude was real or fake, but it ground on her nerves. Too many times, she'd seen what kind of trouble an overly arrogant man could get into.

It seemed to take forever to go through customs and get their bags. Lloyd and Frannie chatted easily while they waited, but his eyes spent most of their time on Frannie's bare skin. Meg ignored the both of them, feeling her level of impatience rising as the minutes ticked by.

By the time they arrived at the hotel, it was deep into the night. Lloyd dropped them off at the front desk with a promise of catching up with them in the morning.

The person manning the desk looked them up and down with a scowl and beckoned a very young woman over to show them to the employees' quarters.

The girl, who introduced herself as Marie, was all smiles as she led Meg and Frannie to the elevator. She looked to be fifteen or sixteen years old, and she had a delicate build. Her skin was several shades darker than Frannie's but her eyes were a startling green. Her very straight and very black waist length hair was gathered up in a thick braid and she was dressed in the hotel colors of deep blue and gold.

“Where are you from?” she asked curiously as they crowded into the small staff elevator.

“Canada,” Meg told her.

“Oh! I've always wanted to go there! Is it nice? Do you get lots of snow?”

“Too much.” Frannie smiled. “Living here will be so much better.”

“Do you work at the hotel, Marie?” Meg asked.

She nodded. “I'm a maid for the third and fifth floors. The staff quarters are very nice. There are two bedrooms, a living room, and a kitchen.”

“Do all of the staff live here?”

“Yes. That's why we have such nice rooms. Most of us are from away. I am one of only five who are native to Marna.”

“You speak excellent English.”

“English is the first language of most of Paradis de Mer. It's only out there...” She waved one brown hand expressively, “that they speak mostly Spanish and French.”

“You were born in the city?” This was Frannie. 

“Yes. Third generation...Here's our floor.” She led them to the first door on the right and continued. “I'm just down the hall in 612. Let me know if you need anything.”

“Thank you, Marie.”

“Yeah, thanks.”

Their suite was rather plain but nice. The living space was small but there was enough room for a small floral couch, a TV, and a small table. The kitchen had an apartment sized stove and refrigerator, and there was even a small microwave.

“Not bad,” Frannie commented as she dropped her suitcases and surveyed the room. “I can live here.”

“All the comforts of home,” Meg said blandly, moving past her to claim the first bedroom.

It was also small but there was enough room for a single bed, a dresser, and a nightstand. There was a surprisingly large closet—good for Meg's fancy dresses—and a mirror above the dresser. Meg looked at herself in it, frowning to see how pale and tired she looked.

“I vote for unpacking tomorrow.” Frannie appeared in the doorway. “I'm about to conk out here.”

“You read my mind. I might even be too tired to change into my pajamas.”

“Yeah, me too.” She rubbed her eyes and yawned. “What do you think of Derek Lloyd?”

Meg shrugged. “He seems like a bit of a jerk.”

Frannie nodded. “Nice eyes, though.”

“I suppose.”

“Nice muscles, too.”

“If you like that sort of thing.”

“Yeah...anyway, good-night.”

“See you in the morning.”

In a move that astonished Meg, Frannie came over and gave her a brief but firm hug. She left the room without saying a word. Meg stared after her, trying to figure out what the hug was for. Whatever the reason, she eventually decided that she liked it.

XXX

Morning came way too quickly. Meg was still in her shorts and t-shirt and lying above the covers when the sun came in through her window and stabbed her in the eyes. Quietly, she groaned to herself and tried to ignore the light in her face, but it was relentless.

She rolled over, but the sunlight was joined by the noise of someone moving around. Sighing, she gave in and opened her eyes. 

It was still hot. She hadn't bothered to turn on the air conditioning before she went to sleep, and now she felt uncomfortable and sticky. How people could enjoy vacationing in this kind of weather, she'd never know. Francesca probably loved it.

Meg thought she might kill for a shower. She could hear the water running in the small bathroom, which showed that Frannie woke with the same thought. 

She slowly got up, running her fingers through her short, dark hair. It was damp and stood up in spikes, almost like Kowalski's on a good hair day. Briefly, she considered stripping and walking around naked until Frannie got out of the shower. She could imagine the shock on Frannie's face and her discomfort was suddenly tinged with amusement.

Meg was just about to turn on the ancient air conditioner when she heard a knock. She glanced at the clock and saw it was after ten. Their guest was probably the attractive but arrogant Derek Lloyd.

She really didn't want to have to face anyone until after she had her shower, but she didn't really have a choice. Grumbling to herself, she flicked on the button before heading into the main room of the suite to answer the door. 

Lloyd looked as ruggedly handsome as he had the night before, and his eyes were no more polite. A hint of amusement came to their cold depths as he took in her rumpled clothing and damp hair.

“Good morning, Janet.”

Meg nodded and moved out of the way so he could come in. Frannie was just coming out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around her body and one wrapped around her head. Her eyes widened when she saw Lloyd.

“Hey,” he said.

“Uh...hi.”

“Nice outfit.”

“I'm gonna...I'm gonna just go get dressed.”

A flush stained Frannie's cheeks. She usually didn't embarrass easily, but apparently being practically naked in front of a stranger could do it.

She disappeared into her room. To his credit, Lloyd's eyes didn't follow her. He turned to Meg instead.

“Shower first,” she told him bluntly. “Save the world later.”

He shrugged, which she took for assent. She quickly went to retrieve her clothes, as well as some extra towels, because there was no way she was going to walk out of the bathroom wearing nothing but a towel.

XXX

One quick shower later, Meg was feeling a hundred times better. As she toweled off, she could hear Frannie and Lloyd talking in the other room. Their voices were mostly too low to understand, but the rise and fall of the conversation was plain.

She ran the towel vigorously over her hair, her thoughts on Fraser. She knew she should be thinking of the Music Man and her upcoming singing engagement, but her mind refused to think about that. Her last conversation with Fraser kept playing in her head. His voice had been soft and calm, but there had been a sensuality under it that she knew was for her alone. The words themselves were not as important to her as his tone and the meaning behind it. Her insides warmed as she remembered the way his simple, “Stay safe,” had made her feel cared for.

She didn't realize she was smiling until Frannie gave her an amused, questioning look. Meg blushed and quickly tried to push all hint of emotion out of her expression. Her poker face had been a lot easier before she had fallen in love. 

Meg paused suddenly as the impact of that thought his her. Was she really in love with Fraser? Her feelings towards him had been both ambiguous and suppressed for so long that she had never allowed herself to dwell on the question before. Even now that they were free to have a relationship, she had never dared to let herself think of the emotions involved. So, was she?

Unwilling to discover the truth this far from home...and from him...Meg pushed away everything except the here and now. She was no longer Meg Thatcher. She was Janet Scott, lounge singer.

“So, Lloyd, what is it you need to tell us about our assignment?” she asked almost coldly as she settled into a chair that had seen better days.

He studied her, looking into her face. She was known as the Ice Queen, but his coldness seemed to go all the way through. It wasn't a mask he put on; she could feel it there, deep inside of him. Was it the job she wondered. Had he killed so many people that his only defense was to become numb, or was it something else?

“Well?” Frannie asked. “Are you going to tell us or are you going to sit there looking like a dead man?”

He blinked.

“You know what she means,” Meg added crossly.

“Yeah.” He waved his hand. “Whatever.”

“And?” Frannie demanded.

“There's no trace of the Music Man. He was going by Richard Handspiker and was well liked. As an outsider, none of the workers are willing to talk to me. Hopefully, you'll have more luck. Pick up what you can about the militia. If you find out where to find their leader, go after him.”

“Do you have anything that would be helpful?” Meg asked.

He shook his head. “The Music Man had all the information, and I haven't been able to find it.”

“You searched his room?”

“Of course.”

She frowned. “Did he have any known friends?”

“The only one I know of is Beverly...no last name, but she's one of the waitresses in the lounge. If we're lucky, you'll be able to get something out of her. Apparently, she was sleeping with him.”

“I'll look out for her,” Frannie said, tucking a long strand of hair behind her ear. “Do you think he told her who he really was?”

“I doubt it, but if he did he's probably not just missing.”

“You mean...” She wiggled her hand vaguely.

“If you mean lying in a shallow ditch somewhere with his throat ripped out, you're right.”

Frannie paled, so Meg barked, “Enough.”

“The two of you are prepared for this, right?”

“We are competent agents, if that's what you're asking.”

“It's just that Steph here is looking a little green.”

“Don't worry about her.”

“You sure?”

Meg saw Frannie's eyes flash as she sat up straighter and said, “Listen, hairbottle, I'm no snowflake. I can take care of business.”

He grimaced. “As long as you're sure. You can't screw this up.”

“Do you have a problem with us because we're women, Lloyd?” Meg crossed her arms and added her glare to Frannie's.

“Nah. I know what a determined woman can do. I was killed by one.” Before Meg could ask what he meant by that, he was continuing, “I'm more concerned because you're practically greenhorns. One mission does not an experienced agent make...and you didn't even succeed.”

“We didn't fail, either.”

“What do you mean?”

“We're alive, aren't we? We lived when the Agencies turned their backs on us. They left us to die, and we escaped. We took down many of Mario's men in the process, and we gave them enough intel to shut down almost half of his business ventures. We can do what needs to be done.”

“Just be smart, be quick, and be deadly.”

“How long will you be staying in Paradis de Mer?” Meg really didn't want him looking over their shoulders.

“I leave tomorrow. This will be our last meeting because I don't want anyone to get suspicious.”

“Is there anything else we need to know?” Frannie asked.

“No. Just don't fail...”

A knock on their door cut him off. He looked from Meg to Frannie, so Meg shrugged. 

“I don't want anyone to know I was here,” he said lowly.

“Then go wait in the bedroom.” Frannie waved her hand at him.

Meg watched him go and waited until he was out of sight before opening the door. Marie was waiting on the other side, her cheerful face lit up with a grin.

“Good morning!”

“Good morning,” Meg answered, giving her a small smile in return.

“Madame Russo wanted me to bring you down to meet her.”

“Madame Russo?”

“She's the boss over all the workers here at the hotel. You have to sign your employee papers and then you will get a tour of the hotel.

“Ah, I see.”

Meg grabbed her key card and followed Frannie and Marie out the door. As she locked up, she found herself hoping that Derek would be long gone before they got back.


	3. Chapter 3

Madame Russo was a round little woman with a serious but kind face. Her dress was colorful and made out of some kind of light, airy material that Meg immediately coveted.

She took care of the paperwork first, and Meg entered her fake information without pause. Immediately afterwards, Meg and Frannie got a quick tour of the hotel.

The hotel had two distinct spaces for its guests. There was the daytime space, which included a fancy restaurant, a souvenir shop, and a play and daycare centre. The lounge was in the night time space. Madam Russo led them inside and turned on the lights. The room was large and filled with scattered tables. The walls and ceiling were dark and gave a sombre, classy look to the place. On one end of the room, there was a long, black bar. On the other, there was a raised stage holding a baby Grand piano.

“This will be your workspace,” Madame Russo told them. Her English was heavily accented. “Stephanie, you will start tonight. Come down to work at six. Ask for Beverly. She will get you your uniforms and show you what to do. For this week, she will be your mentor.”

“Okay,” Frannie agreed, her gaze traveling around the room.

“And me?” Meg asked.

“You will start the day after tomorrow. Tomorrow, you will be meeting with our pianist, Roy Miller, to come up with a play list. He will also advise you on dress. You'll be working Wednesday through Saturday every week.”

“What time do I meet him?”

“At ten in the restaurant. Is there anything else you need to know?” 

“No...Thank you.”

The woman nodded and led them out of the room, locking it behind them. “If you need anything, just ask Marie, and if you have any problems, come and see me.”

XXX

“I guess I won't have to search too hard for this Beverly woman,” Frannie said when the two of them got back to their room.

“There could be more than one Beverly. Be careful when you question her.” Meg looked extremely uncomfortable in a large t-shirt and jeans, and Frannie wondered why she wasn't wearing a pair of shorts and a smaller top.

“Trust me.”

“I do.” She ran a hand through her hair and grimaced. “I think I need another shower.”

“I think it's great! I've always wanted to lay on a tropical beach somewhere and soak up the sun.”

“I'm not sure how much time we'll have for sunbathing.”

Frannie waved her hand. “We won't be working all the time. We don't even know what we're doing yet. Today's a perfect time.”

“I think I'd rather sit here in our air conditioned room in our air conditioned hotel and think about songs I can sing. I mean, look at what a ten minute walk around the grounds has done to me.”

“Don't be such a starfish. You just need a little less clothes...”

“...and some sunscreen.”

Frannie looked her friend over, taking in her pale arms. “And some sunscreen.”

“I'll tell you what, Stephanie...”

“Steph.”

“Huh?”

“I prefer Steph.”

Meg rolled her eyes. “All right. Steph...What was I saying?”

Frannie couldn't help but laugh. “Sorry. And I think you were saying, 'Let's drop everything and go lay on the beach.'”

“Nice try,” Meg said seriously, but Frannie could see in her eyes that she wanted to laugh.

Frannie shrugged. “It was worth a shot.”

“I need to have a shower.” Meg said. “Afterwards, we'll go get some food to stock our fridge. Then, I really do need to think about the songs I want to discuss with Roy Miller. At that point, you're right, there's nothing more we can really do until after we meet our fellow employees. Why don't you go to the beach and see if you can find anyone who knew Richard Handspiker. As long as you're back in time for work, you can do whatever you like while you're there.”

“Deal.” As Meg walked past to go to her room, Frannie added, “And, Janet?”

Meg looked at her over her shoulder.

“Wear some shorts.”

XXX

Meg was supposed to be planning out songs to discuss with her pianist. What she was really doing was sitting on the couch with a pen in her hand staring into space.

The apartment around her was quiet, and Meg was thinking about what had brought her to this point in her life. Francesca's decision to join the NACT project had been one motivated by a desire for respect, both from herself and from others. With their first mission, she had found that respect.

Meg's reasons had been a little more complicated. She had joined the RCMP out of a need to make people accountable for their crimes. After a summer at the Sorbonne as a teenager, she had returned to Canada prepared to enter law school. Both she and her father had visions of her being a lawyer, a judge, and maybe, eventually, Prime Minister. 

While she was waiting for the winter term to start, an acquaintance encouraged her to volunteer at a women's shelter. That experience changed her forever.

Meg's desire to help people, especially women, had never gone away. The problem was, her ability to do so had. She had been moved to administration when it was proven she had an aptitude for it, and that had led to a stint in Legal Affairs. Instead of protecting the victims, she became the victim, and she hated it.

The years in Chicago had been tolerable mostly because of Fraser. He had driven her crazy and challenged her authority, but he had also kept her mind from going numb out of sheer boredom.

When Fraser left with Ray Kowalski, no one—including Fraser—knew if he'd be back. Chicago had never been his home, though he had learned to live there. When Meg had been faced with the possibility of a Chicago without Fraser, she knew something had to change.

The invitation from the CSIS couldn't have come at a better time. It offered the chance to help people again and to do something besides sitting behind a desk and going to balls and parties. Meg had jumped at the chance.

It wasn't as if she were having second thoughts. She knew that this was what she should be doing at this point in her life. Even so, there was a part of her that wanted to be home with Ben.

She had been determined to push him from her thoughts for the duration of the mission, but he seemed to keep creeping in. She didn't know if it was the newness of the relationship or just that she missed him already, but she wished that it would stop. She wanted to be completely focused and immersed into Janet Scott's life.

She bit her lip and stared down at her empty sheet of paper. For the hundredth time, she pushed Fraser away and tried to concentrate. What did one sing in a lounge, anyway?

Meg wasn't a professional singer. Most of her experience was in a church choir when she was a teenager, which was a lot further into the past than she wanted to admit. At one point, she thought she might like to study music, but her father had laughed those thoughts away. Still, she knew she could carry a tune, and she had occasionally been complimented on her voice, but she had no idea how she would make out singing in public. She almost wished she had been given the waitress job instead of Frannie.

A thump against her front door tore Meg's thoughts away form the kind of songs she imagined would be appropriate. With a frown, she place her pen neatly on top of the hotel stationary she had intended on using to write down her ideas.

“Hello?”

No one answered her, so she frowned and got to her feet. She thought Frannie might have come home early or Marie might have come to check on her, so she waited for more noise. There was none.

Still frowning, she went over to the door and looked out the peephole. What she saw made her hurry to open the door.

“Derek...Derek, are you all right?”

She knelt beside Derek Lloyd, who was sprawled on the floor in the hallway. There was blood on his forehead and some soaking the front of his previously white muscle shirt. His eyes were closed, and he looked unconscious.

When Meg didn't get an answer from him, she looked up and down the hallway to see if she was being observed. Seeing no one, she took hold of Lloyd's hands and dragged him into her room. She winced as she bumped him against the door frame, but she couldn't help it. He was heavy and bulky.

As soon as his feet cleared the frame, Meg shut the door. In concern, she knelt by Lloyd again and brushed the hair from his forehead, revealing a gash in his skin. There was too much blood to tell how bad it was, so she rose to her feet and hurried to the bathroom. 

When she returned, she had a cold, damp facecloth in one hand and a pair of scissors in the other. She needed to cut off his shirt to see where the rest of the blood was coming from. If he had been anyone else, she would have called 911. For him, she wouldn't unless there was no other choice.

Carefully, Meg washed the blood from Lloyd's cut. More welled up, but it didn't seem to be coming out all that fast and the cut appeared shallow.

Lloyd groaned at her ministrations, so Meg said, "Shh. It's all right."

"...Ice...Queen...?" His voice was so quiet she could barely hear him.

"Yes, it's me. Where are you hurt?"

"Stabbed...stabbed..."

That didn't sound good. Quickly, Meg cut his shirt up the middle. Lloyd cried out as she pulled the sticky material away from his skin.

The wound was in his side. As she had with his head, she wiped some of the blood away. There was so much that it smeared instead of being soaked up. Even so, it didn't appear to be a gut wound. As far as Meg could tell, his ribs had deflected the knife from anything vital. His main problem seemed to be the blood he was losing.

Meg pressed the facecloth firmly against his skin, hoping the steady pressure would stop the bleeding. 

There were things that she needed to know--whether his stabbing had to do with La Terreur, whether Meg and Frannie's cover had been blown--but she shoved them from her mind. Saving Lloyd was her first priority.

When the bleeding looked as if it might be slowing, Meg pressed her knee against the facecloth to keep up the pressure while she pulled her t-shirt over her head. With the scissors, she cut it into strips, hoping she could get Lloyd up enough to slip them around his waist to make a bandage.

He woke when she was lifting him. His eyelids fluttered.

"Derek," she said quietly, "can you help me? I need you to push slightly against the floor. I'll take most of your weight, but I'm having trouble getting you up high enough."

He didn't reply, but she could tell he was doing something because she managed to get the makeshift bandage around him. She hadn't cleaned the wound but she was more concerned about stopping the bleeding first.

When she finished securing Lloyd's bandage, she glanced at his face and saw him watching her.

"That's an interesting look," he rasped.

"Don't get any ideas," she replied absently as she took one of the strips to start bandaging his head.

He chuckled then moaned.

“Careful. I just got your bleeding stopped. What happened?”

“Do I have to do this from the floor?”

“I can't lift you by myself without hurting you. We're going to have to wait for...Stephanie.” She settled down beside him with her legs crossed. “I managed to stop the bleeding, and I think you should be okay. You should probably have a doctor...”

“No. No doctor.”

Meg sighed. “I thought you might say that.”

“No one can know...”

“Yes, I got that. Now tell me what happened.”

“I was attacked.” His words came out slowly and slightly slurred.

“I figured that much out for myself.”

“It was in an alley downtown...I didn't...see who it was.”

“So, it could have been anyone.”

“Yeah.”

“Do you think we have...?”

He shook his head. “I don't think so.”

“So, what are we going to do?”

“You're going to do...your jobs. I'm going to stay here and...recover.”

“Were you made or was it coincidence?”

“I...don't know...” His eyelids were starting to droop again.

“Listen, Lloyd. I'm going to have to wake you up every hour for the next twelve hours. I'm afraid the blow to your head resulted in a concussion.”

The corner of his mouth lifted slightly. “Will you do it dressed like that?”

“I don't know how you can have lecherous thoughts when you almost bled to death. We'll see if your mouth is that fresh when I'm sewing up your wound without painkillers.”

“Something to look forward to.”

“You're impossible.”

“Thanks. I try.”

Meg was about to answer when the door practically burst inwards. It hit Lloyd's feet with a solid “thump”. 

“The beach is a...” 

Frannie stopped in mid sentence as she took in the wounded Lloyd on the floor and Meg sitting beside him in her bra. Quietly, she stepped over Lloyd's legs and closed the door.

Meg got to her feet. “Give me a hand, please.”

She waved at Lloyd's legs and reached down to loop her arms through his armpits. To her credit, Frannie saved her questions and grabbed Lloyd's feet. Together, they lugged him to the couch.

Even though they were careful, Lloyd moaned softly as they moved. The sound made Meg's stomach tighten, and she was glad when they placed him gently on the couch.

“What did I miss?” Frannie demanded as soon as Lloyd was settled.

“He said he was attacked when he was out in the city. He doesn't know by whom or even if it was mission related. His head wound is pretty superficial. I think he cut it against a building. The one in his side is worse, but I think I got the bleeding stopped in time, and it doesn't look as if it pierced anything vital. The only problem is it requires stitches. He refuses to go to the doctor, so one of us will have to do it.” Meg said all of this quite calmly, but the thought of sewing a man together made her feel as if she would be sick.

“Do you know how to sew?”

“I have sewn.”

“Do you sew good?”

“Well...I...” Little Miss Homemaker Meg was not.

“That's what I thought. Sometimes, I hate this job.”

“If you don't think you can do it...”

“Oh, I can do it. I won't like it, but I won't pass out, either.”

“All right. We've got a little over an hour before you need to be downstairs. You get mostly ready and cover up with a robe, and I'll see if I can find some sewing implements and some alcohol...both the rubbing and the drinking kind.”

“I can't drink when I'm going to work.”

“Not for you, Frannie, for him.”

“Oh...and it's Steph.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“My name.”

Meg colored at making such an amateur mistake. “Of course it is. I apologize.”

“Okay. Now, fly out of here like you were breaking wind.”

Meg nodded and headed to the door.

“Uh...Janet?”

“What?”

“Don't you think you should wash your hands and put on a shirt first?”


	4. Chapter 4

Frannie felt rather yucky when she walked into the lounge at about ten to six. Sewing up Derek Lloyd was an experience she never wanted to repeat. It was hard to say if it had been worse on him or on her. At least Meg had been there to hold him down. As always, Meg had exuded calm, and that had helped keep Frannie calm. Her hands hadn't even been shaking that much.

Now that she was alone, though, the experience was catching up to her. Her hands shook and she felt sweaty despite the air conditioning. 

The lounge opened at six, and Frannie's shifts would be from six to two, six days a week. Sunday would be her only day off. It was everyone's day off because the lounge was closed.

The room was dark, but there weren't many guests yet. A couple were drinking at the bar where a petite, freckle faced woman was pouring drinks. A table of five was talking and laughing quietly. On the stage, a man was testing the mic. Frannie guessed him to be the man who worked the nights Meg didn't.

Unsure of what to do, Frannie hesitated at the door. The bartender caught her eye and beckoned her over. Feeling suddenly nervous, Frannie approached her. It had been awhile since she'd had a regular job. She hoped she wouldn't screw up.

“You Stephanie?” the bartender asked in a surprisingly deep voice.

“Steph. Yeah.”

“Mary. Beverly's waiting for you in the back.”

“Thanks.”

Mary just nodded and went back to mixing drinks.

Frannie went behind the bar and through the door that said, “employees only”. The corridor beyond was much brighter and it was painted in generic white. Frannie followed it to a small room holding a table with a microwave, a battered couch and chair, a small television, and a coffee table covered in magazines.

A woman sat in the chair flipping through a copy of Cosmo. She looked to be younger than Frannie, maybe thirty, and her hair was the color of flames. She looked up when Frannie entered and smiled.

“Stephanie?” Frannie nodded. “I'm Beverly. I'm supposed to get you started. Have you ever waitressed before?”

“It's been awhile.”

“Don't worry. You'll pick it up easily. Tonight should be a slow one, so you can ease into it.”

Frannie wondered if this was the Beverly the Music Man had been having an affair with. She was the right age, and Beverly wasn't really a popular name. She wondered if she should try to work him into the conversation tonight or wait until they knew each other better.

“We all wear a uniform here,” Beverly continued. She stood up and Frannie couldn't help but gape at her. Beverly was built like one of those freaky looking models used when showing clothes nobody could afford from Italy or France or somewhere. She must have been at least six foot three, and she didn't have any curves to speak of. Frannie was so surprised by her shape that she almost didn't notice the black and white skimpy dress she wore.

“You're tall...”

She grimaced. “I get that a lot.”

Frannie hoped she hadn't insulted Beverly. She knew what it was like to be sensitive about something you couldn't do anything about.

“It's even worse when I stand next to Mary,” Beverly continued, leading Frannie towards a closet. “She's only 4'11. I look like a giant and she looks like a child.”

“Mary's the bartender, right?”

“Yes. For about a week. She got promoted when our last bartender ran off.” She sounded angry.

“Ran off?”

“Yes.” Beverly's eyes snapped. “Without a word to anyone. Creep.”

“Then it's a good think Mary was around,” Frannie said delicately.

“All I know is he'd better not come back.” She wrenched the closet door open.

“Why not?”

“Because I'll kill him.”

“Not a fan?”

“No,” Beverly answered shortly, grabbing a uniform from the closet. “Will this fit?”

Frannie accepted her change of subject. “I don't think so. Got anything a size bigger?”

As Beverly rummaged through the uniforms, Frannie thought about what she'd learned. It didn't seem as if Beverly had any idea who the Music Man was or where he'd disappeared to. Still, she could have been lying. Frannie would have to keep her eye on her.

XXX

It was the closing of the door that woke Meg from her dreams of Chicago. In them, she was Inspector Thatcher once more. Fraser and Ray—she wasn't sure which one—had done something incredibly stupid, and Turnbull had set fire to the Consulate. She was just lugging the large, unconscious man through the flames to safety when she was jolted awake.

For a split second, there was darkness, and then light stabbed into her eyes. She winced and threw her hands over her face. She had been sleeping curled up in a chair, and the movement almost tumbled her to the floor.

“You awake?” Frannie asked.

“I am now.” Meg yawned and stretched “What time is it?”

“A little after two. How's he?”

“I'm not sure. We should check him for fever and wake him up to check his responses. I hadn't intended to go to sleep.”

Frannie came over and placed her hand on his forehead. “He feels normal. I'll check his bandages before I go to bed to see if his cut's red.”

“I gave him some Aspirin, so that should help.”

“If this gets to be more than we can handle, we're going to have to call a doctor. We can't let him die.”

“I agree.”

“He'll be mad.”

Meg shrugged. “I don't know what harm he thinks a doctor will be, anyway. For now, we'll humour him. Wake him up so we can be sure he will wake up.”

Frannie shook him slightly. When nothing happened, she shook him a little harder. “Derek, wake up.”

He stirred and opened his eyes slightly. Harshly, he asked, “What's all the racket?”

“It's your mandatory wake up call,” Meg told him. “How are you feeling?”

“Like someone kicked me in the head...and like I lost a fight with a shark.”

“It's painful.”

“Yeah. You try getting stabbed. Not fun.”

“Just be thankful you're alive to feel it. We're going to sit you up and check your wound for signs of inflammation. We're also going to douse it again with alcohol. Be prepared.”

He groaned. “You should have left me asleep.”

“You're the one who decided that going to a doctor would be too dangerous.”

“There are La Terreur sympathizers in the city.”

“Then stop complaining about our ministrations. As a matter of fact, please stop talking altogether.”

“I'm a wounded man, here. Have some sympathy.”

“Quit arguing with...Janet,” Frannie said as she unwound the bandage—a real one and not the bloody strips of Meg's shirt.

“So,” Meg said as she watched Frannie, “how was your night?”

“I'm exhausted. I waitressed a little after my divorce, but I don't remember it being that hard.”

“It will get easier.”

“I hope so. My feet are killing me.”

“Did you learn anything?”

“Well...Maybe. The Beverly that showed me stuff was Music Man's Beverly. I don't think she knows anything. She's very angry at him for disappearing. Mary says she thinks Beverly might be pregnant and that Richard disappeared when he found out.”

“Who's Mary?”

“His replacement.”

“Do you think she could be a Terreur sympathizer?”

“I didn't talk to her much. I didn't really get much time to talk to anyone. It wasn't that busy, but I was very slow.”

“And you didn't want to push.”

“That too.” She finished cleaning Lloyd's wound with alcohol and started rebandaging. He had gasped and then tensed, not saying anything throughout the whole ordeal. “There, I'm done. You can take some pills and go back to sleep.”

“How did it look?” Meg asked.

“Fine for now.”

“Then I suggest we get some rest. Will you be okay out here on your own?” This Meg said to Lloyd.

“I'll be fine. Go to bed.” His voice sounded a little stronger.

“Are you sure?”

“There's not much you can do for me by sleeping in that chair.”

“I suppose you're right. I'll get you some water to take your pills.”

“And I'm going to bed,” Frannie added.

XXX

“I have no idea what I'm doing,” Meg admitted to Frannie the next day as they rode down to the lobby.

“You'll be fine.” Frannie waved a hand as if Meg's worries were inconsequential. “You always are.”

“I haven't sung in front of people for almost twenty years.”

“You're a great singer.”

“And you know this how?”

“Ray told me. Remember that time...with the girl in that cult thing....and the guy was hit by a car...you know...”

Meg thought about this. “Do you mean when we thought Eloise was kidnapped, and it turned out that her parents were greedy murderers?”

“The miracle girl.”

“Did Ray really say I sing well?” Meg peered at Frannie to see if she were lying.

“Yup. And you sung in front of people then.”

“I wasn't feeling...quite myself.”

“Stop stressing and go meet the guy already.”

Meg gave Frannie a rueful smile. Usually, she was the one calming Frannie. Nerves didn't usually get to her, but her singing was something she was self conscious about.

The two of them parted in the lobby. Frannie went out into the city for more First Aid supplies, and Meg slipped into the Paradise Café, which was less café and more classy restaurant. Meg, in character in jeans and a t-shirt, felt under dressed.

Marie had told her to look for a heavy set blond man. There were quite a few guests eating breakfast, so Meg ran her eyes over them, looking for someone who fit the sketchy description. 

A man in the corner caught her eye. He had a round, open face, and he smiled when she started in his direction.

“Roy Miller?” she asked when she reached him.

“Yes. You must be Janet.” His voice was soft and almost melodious.

“Guilty as charged.” She settled into the chair opposite him.

“I ordered some coffee. I hope that's okay.”

“More than okay. Thank you.”

He nodded. “So, tell me what your thoughts are about our lineup.”

“Well,” she said, deciding to tell pieces of the truth, “most of my experience is in the gospel genre. Lounge singing is new to me. I'm hoping to tap into your knowledge to come up with a good program. I'm not even sure what would be appropriate.”

“Okay,” he said easily. “Do you know songs that aren't gospel?”

“Yes. I'm knowledgeable of songs in all genres.”

“Good. That will make it easier. We want classy songs, maybe some subtly sexy songs.”

“Well, I was thinking we could include “Summertime” and “Fever”.”

“Any other ideas?”

“Not a clue.”

“Well, Michelle liked to sing...”

Miller was interrupted by a commotion outside the room. Someone was talking excitedly in a high pitched voice, and there was sobbing. Meg couldn't really hear what was being said, but she was sure she heard “La Terreur”.

“What's that?” she said, getting to her feet.

“It's probably nothing.”

“Maybe there's something we can do to help.”

“Okay. Let's go check it out.”

They weren't the only ones who were curious. Several of the other diners were also moving towards the door.

Meg expertly weaved through the bodies in front of her, automatically putting on an air of authority to help. She wasn't even sure Miller followed in her wake because she was concentrating on the panicked voice. It was clearer now, and she could tell it was talking in a mixture of French and Spanish. Meg was fluent in French and had a passing familiarity with Spanish, so she understood enough to know that La Terreur had come into the city.

When she got to the front, she saw an older woman—if Meg remembered right, the woman's name was Angèle and she worked in the hotel's gift shop. Beside Angèle was a young teen; she was the one sobbing.

“What's going on?” someone beside Meg was saying.

Another hotel employee had finally come forward and started leading Angèle away. It was the snooty hotel clerk from the night Meg arrived, and he probably wanted to keep Angèle from disturbing the guests.

If Meg understood correctly, they'd be disturbed plenty before long. It sounded as if La Terreur soldiers were loose in the city, wreaking havoc—kidnapping men and women, burning buildings, looting, and murdering innocent people. It was hard to say how widespread it was, but if they intended on taking over the city, things could get very bad very fast.

Guests and workers gathered around, mumbling. The people who had understood Angèle's words looked pale and shaken. Meg wondered what this would do to her mission...and then she remembered Frannie.

Her partner was out there in the city buying bandages, alcohol, and who knew what else. She was in danger.

Meg's first instinct was to go after Frannie, searching every store until she found her safe. The problem was that Meg didn't know where her friend went. For another, it would seem very suspicious to Roy Miller and, if this turned out to be nothing, she didn't want him to think she was unusual in any way.

Still, it took all of her willpower to turn to the pianist and ask calmly, “What do you think that was about?”

He looked slightly concerned. “It's not like Angèle to freak out.”

“What was she saying? I only understood something about terror. What was she afraid of?”

“It's okay.” Miller put his hand on her shoulder and tried to steer her back towards the restaurant.

“Are you sure? Maybe we should wait and decide our program later this afternoon. I want to know what's going on.”

He shrugged. “It's probably nothing. Even if it's not, there's nothing we can do. We'll be safe here in the hotel.”

“Safe?” Meg forced her eyes to widen. “Safe from what?”

“You're not going to let this go, are you?”

“She was so frightened.”

“People get frightened...”

“Do you know what she was afraid of, Roy?”

He sighed. “Yes. If you want me to tell you what she was talking about, you'll have to promise me you won't freak out.”

Meg folded her arms and just looked at him.

“Okay. Okay. But not here. Let's find somewhere a little more private.”

“Private?”

“I don't want anyone to hear. Angèle's outburst already has people worried.”

“What's going on?”

“Come on. We'll go down to the laundry room/snack room/ice room in the basement. I'll buy you an Eatmore.”

Meg assumed his caution was because employees had been threatened to keep the existence of La Terreur from the guests. She went along with it, hoping this wasn't some weird ploy to get her alone.

Once the two of them were alone, and Meg had her Eatmore firmly in her hand, she asked, “Okay, what's so secret you couldn't tell me up there?”

“Hotel employees can get fired for talking about this in the public parts of the hotel. Sorry if this seems a little cloak and dagger...”

“And this is?” she pushed, wondering how much he knew.

“There's this group here in Marna...I don't know if you'd call them terrorists or guerrillas or some kind of weird mafia...whatever they are, they think they own the country. They don't usually come into Paradis de mer, but they're very dangerous. Chances are, what Angèle saw was just a couple of them in town trying to make trouble. As long as we stay in the hotel, we should be fine.”

“Roy, my cousin's out there.”

“Your cousin?”

“Stephanie. She's a cocktail waitress in the lounge.”

“Oh.” He paled.

“What if something happens to her?”

“She's probably fine.”

“Probably? That's not good enough. What else do you know about this terror group?”

He shrugged. “Not much.”

Meg raised an eyebrow and prepared herself to grill him. She planned on hearing everything he knew. Then, if Frannie wasn't back in an hour, she was going to go find her.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here, my friends, is an update after three and a half years. I am so sorry! (Though I'm sure there's nobody who remembers this story out there any way. :) ) Even though the story has been written all this time, I got distracted at the time and completely forgot about it. This week, while cleaning, I found my binder (I handwrite everything) and remembered that I had forgotten to finish posting. So, here it is. I'm going to try to get the rest of the story up over the next couple of weeks. (It still has to be edited.)

Frannie yawned as she went down the aisle in the drugstore. She'd only had about six hours of sleep, and she was feeling drowsy and draggy. She'd be lucky if she didn't fall asleep at work that night.

As she looked for supplies, she wondered how Meg was making out with Roy Miller, and how Derek was making out alone. Her thoughts were interrupted by a commotion up by the cash register. Harsh voices caught her attention.

She turned to look, and her stomach jumped as she saw three men clad in camouflage with guns. They were yelling at the cashier and waving their guns around. The cashier's face was the color of paper, and she was obviously trembling.

The men continued to shout, and Frannie had no idea what they were saying. The cashier opened up the till and started throwing money in a bag while one of the men watched. The other two fanned out and started herding people together in the cold medication aisle.

Frannie wondered what she should do. There had been a time when she would have acted on impulse and done something stupid or foolish. She cringed inside as she thought about how she had once acted in a hostage situation. That naïve girl who was so desperate for respect seemed like a whole different person than the one standing in Paradis de Mer with a bottle of rubbing alcohol in her hand. Her training and experiences in NACT had changed her, and she'd also done a lot of growing up since then. Five years seemed like twenty.

One thing she was sure of was that you didn't argue with angry men with guns—especially ones that yelled at you in a language you didn't understand.

With this in mind, when the harsh-faced man with the small black eyes waved his gun at her, she placed her alcohol on the shelf and meekly joined the others. She would play along until she found a way out or she was forced to make a move.

There were five others crowded with her in the aisle. Four of them were women and the fifth was a boy who couldn't have been older than six. His cheeks were streaked with tears and he clung to the leg of a young woman that Frannie assumed was his mother.

They all waited there silently while the man who wasn't holding a gun on them went through the store to round up any other shoppers. Frannie watched their captor carefully, looking for signs of what he wanted from them. She tensed as she wondered if he would decide to shoot them.

In the end, three more people joined them, including the cashier. One of them was a man. When they were all gathered together, the man with the bag started yelling incoherently. 

“He wants us to put our belongings in the bag,” a young, dark haired woman said quietly.

If her money was all she lost that day, Frannie would count herself lucky. From what both Meg and Layton had said, mercy was not La Terreur's style, and she knew that these men must be members of that group.

Frannie didn't take her eye off of them as she emptied her pockets and dropped her money in the bag. Her watch and earrings both followed, though they were made cheaply, because she didn't want to give the men a reason to shoot. The only sound in the room was that of objects clinking against each other as they tumbled into the bag. Their captors' faces could have been made of stone.

Outside, there was a sudden eruption of machine gun fire. Frannie was so tense that she jerked back, almost bumping into the woman behind her. The little boy whimpered, and his mother put her arms around him and drew him close to keep him quiet.

One of the captors' eyes turned to the boy. They looked cold and dead, and Frannie found herself fighting fear. They boy's whimpers broke off and his eyes widened. He was literally too frightened to make a sound.

When everyone was done putting their possessions in the bag, one of the men made a gesture with his gun and said something intelligible. 

Frannie looked at the woman who spoke their language. The woman said, “They want us to go with them.”

“Where are they taking us?” the woman with the child asked.

“I don't know.”

“Nowhere good,” the sole male prisoner added bleakly.

This got a sharp exclamation from one of the captors. Frannie assumed he wanted them to shut up.

There was more gunfire as they stepped out into the street. Frannie felt her mouth drop open at what she saw. Their three armed men were not the only group of La Terreur soldiers in the city. The store across the street from the pharmacy was on fire, its windows all broken.

In the street itself, there were several trucks. People were being herded into them. If they protested, they were being shot.

“My God,” the woman beside Frannie said quietly. She was as light as Frannie was dark, and there was something gentle and sweet about her, even with the determined set of her jaw.

“It's going to be all right,” Frannie said just as quietly. “We're all going to be all right. Just do what they say.”

She just hoped she wasn't telling her fellow prisoners a lie.

XXX

Even though it was one of the hardest things she'd ever done, Meg accompanied Roy back to the restaurant and they came up with a play list. Her mind and heart weren't in it, so when they were done he told her they could practice that afternoon, once she was sure her 'cousin' was safe.

As they went back into the lobby, people were scurrying around like ants and there wasn't a smile to be seen.

“Mike,” Roy said to a man rushing past with a panicked look on his face.

The man paused. “I don't have time to talk...”

“What's going on?”

“We're locking the doors.”

“Locking the doors? Why?”

“They're trying to take over the city...There's war going on in the streets...” His voice was high pitched and squeaky.

Forgetting herself, Meg grabbed hold of him and gave him a quick shake. “Exactly what's going on out there?”

“Pandemonium,” he gasped before twisting free.

She let him go and turned to Roy. “I've got to go see if Stephanie made it back.”

“Go. I'll meet you here around three.”

Meg nodded and rushed to the elevator. She was in too much of a hurry to bother with the staff one. At the moment, being fired was the least of her fears.

Meg managed to remain calm the whole way up to her suite. She refused to think of what might have happened to Frannie. It would just cause needless worry, and she needed to be at her most ice queenish until she'd assessed the situation.

At the suite, she hurried in, saying, “Steph, are you here?”

“She's not back yet.” Lloyd's voice sounded stronger than it had the day before. He was lying on the couch with his hands loosely folded over his stomach.

“Are you sure?” Meg knew it was moronic as soon as she said it.

“Yeah.”

“Damn.”

“What's going on?”

“Trouble.”

“What kind of trouble?”

“Serious trouble.”

“Are we going to keep playing this game or are you going to tell me what's going on?” He struggled to sit up.

“Lie still,” Meg ordered, her voice still calm, though she was really starting to worry about Frannie.

He obeyed, but his tone was different than any she'd heard from him before as he said, “Tell me what happened.”

“I think you mean what's happening, present tense.” She refused to be intimidated. “La Terreur has descended en masse on the city. They're looting and taking prisoners. I'm afraid...Stephanie is one of them. She's been much longer than she should have been.”

“Then what I've been hearing for the past two hours is gunfire?”

“It appears so. The hotel's thick walls must be distorting the sound.”

“Did you bring your gun?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“To Marda. Did you bring your gun?”

“Yes.”

“Get it...and get the Godmother's for me.”

She eyed him carefully. “You don't look well enough...”

“Don't argue. If they break in, I'm not facing the bastards unarmed.”

Meg couldn't argue with that, so she went to get the guns. Hers, she tucked into the back of her pants, and Frannie's she handed to Lloyd.

“I'm going to look for Frannie,” Meg said, not caring that she said Frannie's real name. 

“You should stay here and find out what's going on. You won't do anybody any good if you get killed or captured.”

“I can't just leave her out there. She's my partner.”

“You're letting emotions get in the way of your duty. I thought you ex-Mountie types were all about duty.”

Meg glared at him coldly. “You don't know me, Lloyd. Don't pretend that you do. I know where my duty...and my loyalty...lies.”

There was a sudden and very loud pounding on the door. Meg broke eye contact and went over to answer it. As long as the person outside stayed outside, they wouldn't be able to see Derek on the couch.

Opening the door revealed a frazzled and panicked looking Marie. Her eyes were wide with fear.

“Marie, what is it?” Meg asked, going into the hallway.

“They're in the hotel.” Her words were punctuated by the sound of gunfire. The girl cried out and visibly trembled.

“What's going on?”

“I don't know...but it sounds bad. Madam Russo sent me to tell the staff. Find somewhere safe and hide. The city militia is on its way.”

“That's the whole message?”

The girl nodded.

“Okay. Go on and tell the rest. It will be all right. We can hold on until the police arrive.”

The girl nodded again.

“Go!” Meg's words were echoed by more gunfire.

Marie whimpered but continued down to the next door. Meg watched her to make sure she didn't falter before going back into her suite.

“They're in the hotel,” Meg told Derek bluntly. “It's every man for himself. The city guards have started cleaning things up, but it could be hours before they get here. We've got to do something.”

“Help me up, Janet. We're going hunting.”

XXX

They were in the trucks for over an hour, crowded like sardines and watched over by an armed guard. In all, Frannie counted about forty prisoners: men, women, and a few children. Despite how many there were, the ride was relatively quiet. People were just too frightened to talk, and it didn't seem to take anything to set the terrorists off.

The fresh faced blond and the young mother from the store were the two crowded closest to Frannie. The mother clutched her son tightly, and he had his face buried against her side.

Frannie thought the blond looked as if she would be a good ally when it came time to make a move. Even though she had a sweet face, there was an anger mixed with the fear in her eyes that Frannie admired. Frannie intended on asking her her name as soon as it was safe, provided they weren't separated.

The truck followed a muddy and rutted road into a tumbledown town. Houses were sagging and fences were leaning. Chickens, pigs, and hungry dogs wandered loose. The only buildings that didn't seem in disrepair were two huge barnlike buildings with heavy wooden doors and no windows.

All four trucks stopped. A man came up and opened the back of the truck Frannie was in. Their guard waved his gun menacingly and directed them out. He was quick to poke prisoners with his gun if he felt they weren't getting out fast enough.

The other trucks were also being unloaded and everyone was being separated into two groups. One group consisted of women and children and the other of men.

When the captors started yelling this time, the woman who had translated in the drugstore said, “They say if we follow them quietly, no one will get hurt.”

It wasn't as if they had any choice. Armed men surrounded them and herded them towards the large barnlike structures.

Frannie wondered what would happen to them. Since they hadn't been murdered, the terrorists must have a specific purpose for them. Was it forced labour or slavery? Were they planning on using the women as entertainment or forcing the men into joining their army? Whatever it was, it wasn't going to be good.

It would be up to Frannie to save them all, afraid or not, and she was afraid. But it was her job to fight against La Terreur, and she'd do it the best she could. Maybe she'd even be the one to find and kill their leader. She'd assumed that would be Meg's job, but Meg wasn't there. Hopefully, Meg was safe in the hotel.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I didn't add either French or Spanish accents in this. I hope it doesn't detract from things. If it bothers you, let me know, and I'll fix it.

Derek Lloyd could barely walk, but he insisted on following Meg into the hallway to hunt for soldiers and possible allies. The gunfire had gotten progressively louder and more frequent. It was also spread throughout the hotel.

Their plan was pretty simple—protect when they could, kill if they had to. On her last mission, Meg had been shooting at people, but she had been running away from them at the time. It felt strange to be hunting people down for the purpose of killing them, but she had to keep as many people safe as she could while they waited for the local authorities.

They went slowly and, after fifteen minutes, hadn't come across anyone. Meg hoped that meant a good portion of the hotel's occupants were safe in their rooms.

“Listen, we should split up,” Derek said. He was pale and moving slowly but none of his pain showed on his face.

“Derek, you can barely stand up.”

“Don't worry about me. I'm all right. You check all the floors. I'm going downstairs.”

“That's where most of them are,” Meg protested. “I can't...”

“I outrank you.”

Meg shook her head. “I'm not CIA. You have no authority over me.”

“But I do have the experience. Just check all the floors and come find me. Follow the sound of gunfire.”

“All right,” she agreed reluctantly, “but if you get yourself killed...”

“Then you continue your mission. Find out what happened to the Music Man, gather info on La Terreur, and try to kill its leader. First and foremost, keep the civilians safe.”

Meg didn't think Derek would even be able to make it downstairs but arguing was depleting his energy, so she turned her back on him and headed towards the stairwell. They had already checked their floor and the floor below it, which they were on now, but Meg decided to start over at the top. Since Derek would need the elevator, she took the stairs.

Once in the stairwell, Meg heard voices below but couldn't hear any above. The voices were in the same mix of French and Spanish that Angele had been using earlier. Meg went up as quietly as she could, hoping those down below couldn't hear her.

The hotel had ten floors. She made her way up from the sixth at a snail's pace, listening frequently for signs of men coming up. She was lucky enough to make it to the top floor without seeing another person.

At the top, she put her ear to the door. When she didn't hear anything, she slipped inside. The top floor of the Paradise Hotel consisted of two humongous penthouse suites with a locked door between them. Meg thought the filthy rich people occupying them might just call the police if they saw her. Her tight jeans and formless t-shirt weren't exactly what they were used to.

The long corridor was quiet. When she came to the frosted glass door that separated the two suites, she fished in her pocket for the key. Unlike the simple wooden door separating employees from guests on the sixth floor, this door was part of the décor. It probably cost as much as the house she had once owned in Chicago.

Through the glass, she saw two people come into the hallway. Their figures were indistinct, and their voices were just a whisper through the sound proof glass. Meg hurried to open the door so she could prevent them from going downstairs.

“...have to find out what's going on,” Meg heard as the door opened.

The guests were young, probably in their early twenties. The man was tall and thin and wore a suit. The woman was tiny and elegant.

At the sound of the opening door, they both turned to look at Meg. There was curiosity on the man's face, but the woman looked as if she had caught a whiff of a bad smell.

“What are you doing here?” the woman asked, narrowing her eyes.

“I'm just checking on the guests, ma'am. I'm hotel staff.”

The woman's face cleared. “Oh, then can you tell us what's happening? They called to tell us to stay in our rooms, but they didn't tell us why.”

The man nodded sharply. “We're used to getting answers. We will not tolerate being left in the dark.”

“What were you told exactly?” Meg asked.

“The manager politely demanded—demanded!--that we stay in our rooms. Something about burst water pipes gushing into the lobby. Mitzi didn't believe him and, quite frankly, neither did I. There was too much panicked noise in the background for a flood, even a serious one. Now, you will tell us what's going on. Immediately.”

Meg looked the two of them up and down. She could do authority better than most. “And where are you going, sir, ma'am? You have been informed to stay in your rooms for your own safety, yet here you are in the hallway.”

The man looked shocked at her tone. “Now, see here...”

“No, you see here.” Meg felt herself give in slightly to her anger. “We are facing a crisis situation, and the manager has bigger worries than having to babysit the two of you because you didn't have the common sense to stay in your rooms. You're right. The problem isn't just a little bit of flooding. There are killers in the corridors, in the stairwells, in the lobby, and in the common areas. Killers. And if you don't go back into your room and lock the door, you could be their next victims.”

“Well...”

“Are you listening to me?”

“Surely, it can't be that bad.”

Meg folded her arms and gave them her best Ice Queen glare. “Are you willing to risk it?”

The man eyed her back, and they stood staring at each other for precious seconds. He looked away first.

“I will be complaining to the management.”

“Fine, but you'll have to be alive to do it. Go back into your suite.”

“What exactly is it you do here in the hotel, miss?”

Meg defiantly raised her chin. “I'm the entertainment. Janet Scott.”

“You're not even in security,” Mitzi protested.

“And you're going to let a minor detail like that get you killed?”

“No.” The man seemed to have made a decision. His arm went around his wife. “Of course not. We will be informed when it is safe to venture out?”

“Yes. The authorities are on their way, but they may take awhile to get here. Don't let anyone in, and stay away from the door. Better yet, pile all the furniture you can find against it.”

The man didn't answer, but he turned his wife around and stuck his key card in the slot. Not bothering to watch to make sure they went in or to take the time to lock the glass door, Meg hurried down the hallway. She passed the elevators in favour of the stairwell and pressed her ear against the door. She didn't hear anything, but she didn't know if that was because there was nothing to hear or because the door was soundproof. 

Slowly, she opened the door a crack and peeked out. She could hear some noise, but it was still distant, and she didn't see anything. Satisfied, she went into the stairwell and started down towards the next floor.

The next three floors were completely quiet. Meg didn't hear or see anyone. She hoped the guests were all safe in their rooms and not wandering through the hotel. Certainly, by now, it was obvious that something was going on. You couldn't hide gunshots and screams.

On the sixth floor, she found several workers, some she'd met and some she hadn't, in the hallway. A tall, black-haired man with an English accent was angrily waving his arms.

“I say we break into the empty penthouse. It's the safest place in the hotel right now.”

“Madame Russo told us to stay in our rooms,” Marie protested.

“Whatever you do, do it quickly,” Meg said, coming up to them. “I can hear you in the stairwell, and that means La Terreur can probably hear you as well.”

The tall man turned snapping eyes on her. “Who are you?”

“She works in the lounge,” Marie said before asking Meg, “Do you really think they're coming up?”

“Yes.”

“What do they want?” someone else asked.

“Does it matter?” The man turned to his fellow employees. “All that matters is that they're here and they're killing people.”

“I think they might be trying to make a statement,” someone else said grimly. “See how strong we are? We went into Paradis de Mer and killed X many people.”

That sounded logical to Meg. “If we don't want to be one of those people, we've got to get out of the hallway.”

“I'm going up,” the Englishman said. “Who's with me?”

About half of the small group said they were. The others shook their heads and headed back to their rooms. Meg went to the wooden door at the end of the hallway, throwing a, “Be careful,” over her shoulder.

There was no one in the hallway on the guest side, and Meg hurried towards the stairwell. She was about to step inside when she heard the elevator stop and ding. Her stomach clenched and she kept her duty and her promise to Derek firmly in her mind. If the new arrivals were guests, she had to get them to safety. If they were terrorists, she had to keep them from hurting the staff.

The doors opened, revealing two men in army fatigues. Meg grabbed her gun from her waistband just as the men noticed her standing there.

One of them cursed in French and raised his weapon. Meg fired a shot and jumped to the side as bullets sprayed the stairwell door. She got off another shot, killing the man who'd fired. The other seemed surprised by her attack but, when his colleague fell, he raised his own weapon. 

Meg was just a smidgen faster, and her bullet hit him just before his own shot hit the wall near her head. He cried out and folded forward.

Both men lay motionless on the floor. Meg watched them for a few seconds to make sure they wouldn't suddenly recover and start shooting. When they still didn't move, she went into the stairwell. She wondered how Derek and Frannie were doing, and she worried because the terrorists had made it up so far.

Most of all, she wondered if any of them were going to make it out alive.

XXX

The light in the big building was dim. There was no windows, and the only illumination came from a small, bare bulb in the centre of the room. In its glow, Frannie counted maybe sixty women and ten children. They all looked terribly frightened, and Frannie felt a large dose of that fear herself.

Some of the women were consoling both children and other women. Frannie was pleased to see that the blond-haired woman was among them.

Frannie went over and touched her arm. “Hey.”

The woman gave a sobbing woman a second pat on her shoulder before turning to Frannie. “Hey.”

“You were in the drugstore, right?”

“Yeah. Cough drops. Now I'm thinking I could have done without them.”

Frannie smiled at her attempt at humour. “I'm...Steph.”

“Emily.”

“I think we need a plan to get out of here.”

“Do you think we can?”

“I don't think we have a choice. I don't know what those garbanzo beans want, but it can't be good.”

“Garbanzo beans?”

“You know, the guys in the green suits.”

Emily still looked puzzled, but she nodded. “What do you suggest?”

Frannie sighed. “I don't know yet.”

“I think our first priority should be calming everyone down. Hysteria is just going to make things worse.”

Frannie's regard fro Emily went up another notch. “Right. What are you, Emily?”

“What am I?”

“Yeah. In real life...I mean, when you're not being kidnapped by tough guys.”

“Oh, I'm a teacher. Pre-school. Four year olds in Iqaluit.”

“Where?”

Emily smiled. It made her face sweet and sunshiny, and Frannie bet she was a good teacher. Both her kindness and underlying strength were obvious. “Iqaluit. It's in Northern Canada. I'm on vacation here with my sister. Since I moved up north, I hardly get to see her anymore...She must be wondering where I am.”

“I'm Canadian too,” Frannie told her, “but I'm not so good with geology. I'm a cocktail waitress at the Paradise Hotel. I was getting some aspirin for a friend of mine...He's got a...headache.”

As intended, Frannie's words seemed to distract Emily from worrying about her sister. “How long have you been here? Do you know who these people are?”

“I only got here the day before yesterday, but I've heard some rumours.”

“Rumours?”

“About a rebel militia. This must be them. I don't have a clue what they want with prisoners, though.”

Emily looked thoughtful. “Maybe ransom or slaves. If the rebels are all men...”

“We probably shouldn't mention that. Everyone's scared enough as it is.”

“Right. Well, let's see if we can unscare them a little.”

XXX

Despite loud echoes in the stairwell, Meg didn't run into anyone else for the next few floors. She went as quietly as she could, afraid she'd draw more attention than she could handle.

At the third floor, her luck ran out. She saw the man on the landing below just a second before he saw her. That's all that saved her life. Bullets thunked into the wall as she drew back, narrowly missing her.

Meg hissed and ducked into the third floor hallway. She could hear booted feet running up the stairs as she dashed down the corridor.

She had almost reached the turn when a man burst through the door yelling, “Arret! Arret! Viens ici!”

Meg had about as much intention of viens ici-ing as she had of flying. The man shot at her again just as she lunged around the corner.

Using the corner for cover, she ducked back around, firing a shot. It went wild, breaking the light above the terrorist's head and spraying him with glass. 

He was running towards her, firing, and Meg knew that if she didn't hit him, he'd kill her.

Ducking low to avoid his bullets, Meg took a shot at his knee. The man stumbled, dropping his gun—but not before she was hit by a spray of plaster from one of his bullets.

She fired again, and he went down and lay still.

Meg turned to see white-faced people in doorways. They were looking at her with fear in their eyes.

“Go back in your rooms. Lock the doors and pile furniture against them. Don't let anyone in for any reason.” Some went back in, but most continued to stare at her. “Do it or they'll be coming for you next. You heard the gunfire? These are not nice people.”

The rest of the doors shut as people retreated—all but one.

“Maybe I can help.” The speaker was a very tiny black woman—maybe five feet tall if she were lucky—with a plump and over-endowed body and a pretty face.

“These men are not playing.”

“Oh,l I know. I've had a run in with them before.” She disappeared and came back with a very large gun.

“You have a gun.”

“Yeah, well so do you. Name's Cheri.”

“Meg. Are you sure you wouldn't rather...”

“I won't be taken by them again.” Her eyes blazed.

“All right, then.”

XXX

Derek Lloyd hurt. His head pounded and his side felt as if he had been stabbed all over again. Still, he had killed twelve of the bastards and he didn't have a scratch. Not a new one, anyway.

Even wounded, he'd been able to kill some of them before they even saw him coming. He had cleared out a storage room and left one of the braver civilians in charge. As he rescued people, he sent them there to lay low.

Now he was resting in a closet. He was short of breath, and he'd started seeing spots. Even so, he was determined to save as many as he could. If he died in the process, so be it. He'd officially been dead for over three years anyway. All that was left was the actual dying part.

Derek frowned and checked his gun. He didn't really have to, but it was better than thinking about the past. The real Derek Lloyd was still a painful subject, even after all this time.

He took as long as he dared to catch his breath and got shakily to his feet. Training and experience had taught him how to distance himself from pain, so it barely registered as he reached for the doorknob. 

The sound of approaching footsteps made him stop. The person on the other side of the door was wearing big, clunky boots, so it was probably a member of La Terreur.

Derek waited quietly for the boots to go by. He planned on shooting the terrorist in the back, so he patiently counted to ten. When he was sure there was enough distance between him and his prey, he silently opened the door, preparing to fire.

He lifted his pistol, took aim.

“I wouldn't, senor,” a gruff voice beside him said, and Derek suddenly felt the cold metal of a gun barrel against his temple.

Derek lowered his own gun, pretending to capitulate. When the man beside him reached for it, Derek threw an elbow into his side. The man grunted but didn't fold as Derek had expected. Instead, he recovered quickly and threw a punch. The punch hit Derek in the jaw and, in his weakened state, threw him sideways. The wall kept him from falling completely, and he pushed against it to right himself. Flinging himself against his opponent, he managed to deliver a solid blow to the face. He was too slow to follow it up with another and found himself on the ground as his opponent kicked his legs out from under him.

He landed hard on his injured side and gasped for breath. The terrorist grabbed Derek by the hair and lifted his head. 

“You have killed too many of our men, senor,” the terrorist growled, slightly out of breath.

“Too bad I didn't get them all,” Derek returned weakly, wondering why he was still alive.

The man cursed and kicked him in the thigh. It was hard enough to give him a cramp, but Derek was still thankful it hadn't been a little bit higher.

“Who are you? What are you doing here?”

Derek didn't answer. He expected the man to kick him again. Instead, he found himself being hauled to his feet. He sagged slightly against his captor and hoped his stitches hadn't been ripped out.

“Where are you taking me?” He managed to get out. He hated how wispy and weak his voice sounded.

“Somewhere where you'll tell me everything I want to know.”

Derek didn't think he liked the sound of that.


	7. Chapter 7

It took longer than Frannie liked for her and Emily—and a few other brave women—to calm down the others. The children seemed to calm with the adults and, though a few of them still cried, it was silent weeping in the arms of a comforting adult. There was more noise than there had been, but it was a softer, gentler noise. One of women talking to each other instead of trapped in their own fears.

Frannie took Emily by the arm and they went up to their translator. The dark-haired woman's lips were pressed in a tight line, and her body was rigid.

“Hey,” Frannie said to her.

“Hey,” she answered.

“I'm Steph, and this is Emily. We're Canadian.”

“Dora.”

“Do you know what's going on?”

“Or what's going to happen to us?” Emily added.

“We've been captured by La Terreur—it means terror, and they are aptly named. If they didn't kill us, they need us for something. Labour, most likely, since they took men too. When they are looking for continued entertainment, they simply slaughter the men.”

Frannie shared a look with Emily. “What kind of labour?”

“They could be building another compound. You don't have to pay slaves. They probably want to raze this gutted village and build several strong structures—barracks, a mess hall...a church...”

“A church?”

“Our ancestors are French, Spanish, and converted natives. Most of Marda is strong in the Catholic faith—even La Terreur.”

“And they don't see the ironing board in that?”

“Huh?”

“You know, the strangeness.”

Dora shrugged. “They believe their cause is just.”

“They're crazy,” Emily said.

“Yes.”

“So...” Frannie tapped on her bottom lip. “...They'll need builders and demolition crews and latrine and temporary camp builders and cooks and servants and...” She grimaced. “...entertainment.”

Dora nodded.

“But why take kids?”

“I have no idea...Probably for child soldiers.”

“You said our ancestors,” Emily pointed out. “Are you from the city?”

“I was born in a village like this, but I've lived in the city since I was a young girl. The city is...safer.”

“Doesn't feel like it today,” Frannie said.

“They don't usually go into the city. They must be making a point.”

“What kind of point does capturing and killing hundreds of people make?”

“Maybe they want to say they are in control and the city exists solely because they let it,” Emily suggested.

“What are we gonna do?”

“What can we do?” Dora asked bleakly.

“There's at least sixty of us and even more men. We should be able to do something.”

“They have guns.”

“I'd rather die than be a slave to terror.”

“I'm with you. I'd rather be shot than the alternative,” Emily agreed.

Dora was looking at them as if they were crazy.

“You don't have to do anything.” Frannie patted her arm. “I'll think of something.”

For some reason, Dora didn't look comforted.

XXX

Meg and Cheri made it down to the ground floor without having to confront any terrorists. Meg was pleased with this because she didn't like being forced to shoot anyone, bloodthirsty and crazed or not.

When they stepped out of the stairwell, Meg didn't feel quite as bad about what what she had done. Instead, she felt anger well up.

The corridor was littered with bodies, most of them civilians. Both women and men had crumpled and fallen, and pools of blood fanned out from their still forms.

“A massacre.” Cheri's voice was shocked and quiet.

Meg nodded. “We've got to find out if there's anyone left to get to safety.”

Derek wasn't among the slain, and there were at least four rebel soldiers. Meg hoped that meant that he was still fighting to keep people alive until the city's militia got there.

“Damn,” Cheri swore.

“Come on. Unless you'd rather go back to your room.”

“Hell, no. Let's get those bastards.”

An almost eerie silence had come to the hotel, though it was still occasionally broken by gunshots. Meg moved quietly in the direction of those, and Cheri followed close behind her. It was easy to see that Cheri was comfortable with her gun, and Meg wondered where she was from and how she had become so adept. 

They were almost to the lobby when they came upon a very pale young man in shorts and a t-shirt carrying a battered tennis racket. He saw them at the same time they saw him, and his tennis racket came up in front of him like a shield.

“It's all right. We're not going to hurt you,” Meg told him. “What are you still doing in the hallway?”

“I can't...I can't find the storeroom.” His voice wavered, and Meg realized that he was probably several years younger than her guessed age of twenty.

“The storeroom?” Cheri asked.

“I'm new at the hotel, and I got turned around.”

“Why are you headed for the storeroom?” Meg added.

“That's where he told me to go. Grabbed my racket and bashed that guy who was going to shoot me...Then he told me to find the storeroom, took the guy's gun, and took off.”

Derek? Meg wondered. “Was this guy about my age with dark hair?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

Meg turned to Cheri. “Do you know where the storeroom is?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

“Could you bring our friend there? I'm going to see if I can find this crazy rescuer.”

“You know him.” It was a statement not a question.

“He gave me this gun.” Only slightly a lie. “Listen. You do what you have to do to keep the people in the storeroom safe.”

Cheri waved her gun. “I can do that.”

“Good. I'll be there when I can. If I run into anyone, I'll send them to you as Derek did.”

“All right.”

“Thanks, Cheri.”

“Hey, it's my ass on the line too. I hope when you find your friend he's alive.”

“So do I.”

Meg watched Cheri start leading the boy down the hall before heading towards the lobby. Since it was the centre of everything on the main floor, she decided to start from there and check the pool room, the restaurant, the nightclub, the kitchen, the play room, the spa, and the dozens of other little rooms that were scattered throughout the floor.

There were voices in the lobby as she approached, speaking in that unusual mix of Spanish and French that it seemed most people outside of the city spoke.

Meg pressed herself against the wall and peered around the corner. Five La Terreur members were standing there talking in harsh, cold voices. Bodies didn't litter the hallway as they had by the elevator, but Meg could see three motionless men on the floor. One was the snobbish desk clerk.

Meg wondered how she was going to get by those men and check the rest of the rooms for survivors. She could shoot at the men from around the corner, but there were so many of them that it was possible they could get to her before she got them all. Still, she couldn't just stand where she was and do nothing. 

The only other option was to go back the way she had come, and she couldn't see any benefit from doing so. 

Meg closed her eyes for just a couple of seconds. She blocked everything out and took a deep breath to clear her mind. "Okay, Meg. You can do this. If you want to see Fraser again, make sure Frannie is safe, and bicker with the Rays again, you will stay alive. Neutralize them before they neutralize you. You did it in Mario's mansion, you can do it now."

When she was completely calm, she opened her eyes and clenched her jaw. She would do her duty or die trying.

Once more, she peeked around the corner. One of the men had left, leaving four targets.

Whatever the men were talking about they must have found amusing because they laughed. Their laughter grated on Meg's nerves, and she wondered how they could laugh amid all this death. It was the motivation she needed to fire at the first man. Without hesitation, she aimed for his head, and he dropped like a stone.

The other three men stiffened, their relaxed postures evaporating. Alert, they raised their guns. They obviously were unsure which direction the shot had come from. While they were still confused, Meg shot another. He moved, and she hit him in the shoulder. He cried out and dropped his gun while the other two jumped over the reception desk and started firing.

Meg heard the bullets as they thunked into the wall she was hiding behind. She glanced around the corner and was almost hit. The wounded man, she saw, had overturned a chair and was using it for cover.

A glimpse was all she dared to take, and she was starting to worry because she was low on bullets. She would have to steal guns from her opponents to go on, and the only way to do that was to win this gunfight. If she ran out of ammunition before she did, she would have to retreat.

When she ducked out to make her next shot, she felt the air stir as a bullet came frighteningly close. Calmly, she finished her motion and caught one of the men behind the desk in the face.

Jumping back, she fought down nausea. She was used to taking life only as a last resort, and the sight of her bullet hitting home had been a little too gory for her stomach.

But at least she hadn't missed.

"Come out, lady, and we will not hurt you," one of the remaining men said in broken English.

She dropped down slightly so she wouldn't be where they expected and went around the corner. The wounded man was aiming, but when he fired it was so wide Meg wouldn't have been surprised if it hit the other terrorist, who also popped up to shoot. Meg hit him, but she wasn't sure where; he fell behind the desk too quickly.

The sweetest thing she'd ever heard was the sound of the wounded man trying to fire an empty gun. To get more ammunition, he'd have to leave his shelter.

Meg boldly left her corner before he could. She trained her gun on the chair and said, "You may as well come out."

He sprayed her with a volley of angry words, most of which sounded like curses. The French ones, at least, were nothing she'd ever repeat in polite conversation. Really, considering how rarely she swore, she probably wouldn't repeat most of them in any kind of conversation.

"Feel better?"

His empty gun suddenly came flying towards her head. Since it was thrown with what Meg assumed was his wrong hand, it missed, but she took it as a 'no' to her question.

"Come out," she continued. "If you do, I might even let you live."

There were some words that she didn't recognize that ended with "bitch".

Ignoring this, she continued to inch towards the chair. When she got to the first man she shot, she ducked down to grab his gun.

Her hidden adversary took this moment to rush at her. He hit her body solidly with his, and they both tumbled to the floor.

Even wounded, he was strong. Heavy too. She struggled with him, fighting so he wouldn't be able to wrench the gun from her hand. Meg pushed him slightly to the side and was able to slam him in the groin with her knee. Suddenly, his struggles ceased and he let out a loud groan. Meg was able to push him off and place her gun against his temple.

"Done now? I don't want to kill you, but I will."

"Who are you?" he gasped in French.

"I'm Janet Scott," she told him in the same language. "I'm the lounge singer."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think the last line of this chapter is my favorite line in the whole story. :)


	8. Chapter 8

A couple of hours after they were locked up, members of the stony-faced militia brought them something to eat. It was some kind of gruel that tasted like cardboard. The women and children ate it anyway. 

As she ate, Frannie thought about the building and how she could help everyone escape. With no windows, she couldn't see if there were guards at the door or how many men were left to watch over the prisoners in the tumbledown village. It felt as if they were in a large box, and that made it difficult to plan anything.

“I don't like it in here,” Emily said quietly. “It feels as if time is standing still. Without my watch, I'd be lost.”

“Yeah,” Frannie agreed. “I wonder how long they're just gonna leave us in here.”

“Maybe until the raid in the city is done.”

“Maybe.”

Emily looked down into her broth, her face shadowed in the dim light. “I hope my sister is okay.”

“I'm sure she's fine.”

“They were shooting people in the streets.”

“They had to show people how big and tough they are. They remind me of my ex-husband.”

It was amazing, Frannie thought, how in just short of fifteen years, she had gone from victim to protector. There had been a lot of stops along the way, but she really liked who she was now.

Frannie was still eating when the door opened. She looked up to see ten more women being herded in. Their eyes were dulled with fear and horror.

The men spoke to them roughly, but other than one or two flinches the women didn't react. When the last woman was pushed through the door, it was shut firmly and, Frannie assumed, locked.

She put down her bowl and walked over to the woman who looked the least shocked. “Are you all right?”

The woman looked around. “Where are we?”

“I don't know.”

“It was horrible...They're dead...all dead...”

“Tell me what happened.”

“Men came to the hotel. They just started shooting. They shot everyone...everyone but us and about twice as many men. I ...I don't understand. We were supposed to be safe if we stayed in the hotel.”

Frannie felt herself pale. “They went into the hotel?”

“They just shot everyone.”

“What hotel were you staying in?”

“The Paradise Hotel.”

Frannie gripped the woman's arm without meaning to. “These are the only survivors? Are you sure?”

“In...in the restaurant...There were bodies in the halls...I don't know...I don't know...”

What if Meg were among the dead? The thought made Frannie want to throw up. If Meg were dead...Frannie forced herself to think of practicalities the way that Meg had taught her. If Meg were dead, then everything was up to her. She had to free these prisoners, find the Music Man, and kill the leader of La Terreur. There might not be anyone else left to do it.

“I'm sure not everyone was killed.” Frannie forced her voice to be calm and even. “Hotel security was there. The soldiers couldn't have gone into every room.”

“They killed my husband.”

“I'm so sorry. My best friend...my cousin...was there.”

The woman looked hopeless. “Then she was probably lost.”

XXX

The whole time Meg had been going through the hotel, she'd wondered where hotel security was. Besides the few scattered uniformed bodies, there'd been no signs of them. From her prisoner, she found out that most of the security team was involved in a shoot out on the other side of the hotel. They had taken the lounge as their refuge and were waging war outside of it as well as in the playroom. They had gone there to protect the children and had been overwhelmed.

The terrorist was extremely talkative, though most of his talk was about how he would torture her if she left him alive. He wouldn't say anything about his group but seemed to enjoy bragging about what they'd done in the hotel.

Meg was tempted to kill him just for that, but she couldn't bring herself to murder an unarmed man. Instead, she used cords to tie him up and locked him in a closet to question more thoroughly when the crisis was over.

Since the lounge and playroom were being covered by security, Meg decided to go down the other corridor. There was no one in the hallway, but she walked quietly. She could hear voices behind the doors that she passed, and none of them sounded like people that needed her help. She wondered if all the civilians left in this part of the hotel were dead.

Meg worried because she hadn't come across Lloyd yet. She wondered if he was now in the supply closet or if he had been gunned down in his efforts.

It became obvious that all of the people had either been cleared out or were dead, so Meg prepared to turn back and join the others in the storeroom. The sound of Derek's voice stopped her.

“I'm just a guest at the hotel.”

Meg went over and peered through a fancy glass window to see Derek tied to a chair. Three terrorists surrounded him, and he looked as if he'd been hit more than once. Meg hoped they hadn't opened his stitches. He didn't need any more blood loss.

She had to get Derek out of there. He would probably disagree and say that he wasn't important and that she needed to continue the mission and protect the civilians still left alive. He would probably be right, at that, but Meg wasn't the type to leave a man behind, and she never would be. She would rescue Derek Lloyd's ungrateful hide or die trying.

But how?

Meg only allowed herself a few seconds to think. She knew taking out the first man would be easy but, after that, either of the others could use Derek as a shield. There was a large chance she would be shot, but she couldn't just stand there running macabre scenarios through her head.

Quietly, she turned the knob and pushed the door open slightly. The men were badgering Derek so they were oblivious to her presence. Carefully, she considered which man to take out. They all looked equally dangerous. 

Suddenly, Derek raised his head and saw her. She saw recognition go through his eyes, but his face remained devoid of emotion. He gave her a slight wink and stretched his legs as if they were cramped. The move brought them close to one of the men standing near him demanding answers. 

Meg thought she understood what he was doing and aimed for the man furthest from Derek. He was quietly watching while the other two performed the interrogation.

She aimed carefully and took her shot. The man didn't make a sound when it hit him, but he fell backwards, alerting the others to her presence.

Before the men in front of him could move, Derek used his legs to sweep one of them off of his feet. The terrorist fell against his comrade and they both went down in a tangle of limbs. Derek gave another kick. It bounced off of a head and the man stopped moving. When the other man tried to get to his feet, Meg quickly shot him. He crumpled onto his comrade.

“Good shot!” Derek said. “Now, what are you doing here?”

“Saving your life, apparently.”

Suddenly, the hotel exploded with sound again. There was yelling and running booted feet.

Derek got up and limped painfully over to the window. “The city guard's here. The rats are abandoning ship. The best thing to do now is wait it out. Maybe this guy,” he indicated the man he had kicked unconscious, “can give us some answers.”

“I've got another man tied up in a closet,” Meg told him, “but he doesn't seem to speak any English. I can interrogate him in French.”

It was over twenty minutes before the guard found them. Meg had been standing next to the door, listening to the noise of the hotel being reclaimed. Her gun was in her hand.

Derek rested in the chair, his eyes on the unconscious man. Meg tried not to think about the dead men at his feet.

She saw the guards approaching through the window. There were five of them, dressed in Marda's colors of blue and gold. She backed away from the door and waited, putting her gun in the waistband of her jeans. She and Derek didn't look like members of La Terreur, but she didn't want to startle that many armed soldiers.

The door opened and the soldiers glanced around the room with interest.

“Who are you?” a big, burly man with a square face asked.

“I'm Janet Scott,” Meg told him. “I'm an employee of the hotel.”

“Lloyd.” Derek gave him a sharp nod. “I'm staying here.”

“And these men?” the soldier continued.

“Like this when we got here.”

The soldiers took this at face value. “Okay. Go back to your rooms. You'll be safe now. We're just clearing the last of the terrorists from the building.”

“Thanks,” Meg said, moving to help Derek, who had started to sway.

“Does he need a doctor?”

“I'm fine.” Derek waved the soldier's question away. “It looks worse than it is. Someone hit me.”

“You're sure?”

“Yeah.”

“All right. Hurry upstairs.”

Meg nodded and she and Derek left. They went slowly because he was favoring his side, but she didn't see any blood.

“You never did tell me why you aren't with the civilians, protecting them.”

“I've got a woman on it.”

“The Godmother?”

Meg shook her head sadly. “No, Frannie's still missing. The woman called herself Cheri, but I have no idea who she is.”

He frowned. “Then maybe we should find her and ask her.”

XXX

They found the survivors that had been hiding in the storeroom standing dazed in the lobby. The bodies of the men Meg had killed had been removed, and someone was looking over those gathered, searching for injuries.

The usually cheerful room looked just like what it was—a place trying to right itself in the aftermath of a disaster. Meg searched the shocked faces for both Frannie and Cheri. There was no sign of Frannie, but the tiny black woman was standing by the desk talking to a very tall red-haired woman. 

Meg touched Derek's arm. “She's over there.”

Derek's eyes widened. “That's the woman who helped you?”

“Yes. Do you know her?”

“Yeah.” He nodded absently, moving towards Cheri.

Meg frowned and followed him, wondering what he knew that she didn't.

Cheri stopped in mid sentence when she saw them, and she looked almost as surprised to see Derek as he was to see her.

“What are you doing here?” Derek demanded angrily.

“Excuse us,” Meg said to the red-haired woman.

She nodded and wandered away, so Cheri whirled on Derek. “She was just about to tell me if she knew where Grayson went.”

“Grayson?” Meg asked, puzzled. 

“Grayson Daniels. My brother,” Cheri told her. “Is this clown the man you said gave you your gun?”

“I don't understand.”

“Grayson Daniels is the Music Man's real name,” Derek added. “Cheri isn't an agent but she works in administration at the Agency.”

“And the Music Man is her brother?”

“Yes.”

“Then what you said about being captured...”

Cheri looked away. “I lied.”

“You were supposed to wait for us,” Derek's voice still betrayed his anger.

“And you were supposed to be gone.” Cheri's eyes flashed. “Someone had to find out what happened to Gray.”

Meg raised a hand. “That was my job.”

“I thought you were the lounge singer.”

Derek looked around, even though no one was really paying attention to them. “Maybe we should go up to one of the rooms and talk about this.”

He swayed and Meg immediately put her hand on his shoulder. “You have to sit down.”

“What's wrong with him?”

“Stab wound. Let's get him upstairs.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a short, now we can breathe for a minute chapter.

The three of them were silent the whole way up the elevator. Meg kept thinking about how wrong the assignment was going already and it hadn't even started yet. Derek was supposed to be gone, and she and Frannie were supposed to be quietly putting in time undercover, trying to find answers. 

When they arrived at her rooms, Meg found herself hoping that her partner would be there waiting for her. Unfortunately, everything was still and empty. 

“I'm going to find her, Derek,” she commented before the door was even closed behind them.

“Janet...”

“You may as well call me Meg. The mission is shot to hell anyway...and sit down before you fall down. I'll check your wound. We still have some supplies.”

Surprisingly, Derek didn't argue. He stumbled over to the couch, waving Meg away when she reached to help him.

“This is a mess,” he gasped as he practically fell into it.

“You're telling me.” She let herself flop down beside him.

Cheri took the chair and looked at Meg curiously. “So, who are you anyway?”

Meg glanced at Derek, and he nodded.

“I'm a NACT agent,” she said. “My partner and I were sent to find out what happened to your brother and, if needed, take over his mission. What are you doing here?”

“I followed him.” She pointed at Derek. “I knew they were sending him down here, and I wanted to know what happened to Gray.”

“You were supposed to wait for me to report back. You don't even have field experience,” Derek said.

“You were supposed to be gone by the time I got here. No one was supposed to know.”

“You were supposed to trust me.”

She crossed her arms and glared at him. “Do you know where my brother is?”

“Not yet.”

“Of course not.”

“To be fair,” Meg commented, holding up her hand. “He was just supposed to do reconnaissance. My partner and I were the ones put in charge of finding your brother.”

“Do you know where he is?”

Meg shook her head. “We've talked to most of the employees and the consensus is that he just disappeared. No one seems to know any more. We were going to try asking people in the city today, but this happened...”

“Beverly?”

“Frannie's pretty sure she doesn't know where he is. It's made her quite angry—Beverly, not Frannie.”

“You keep talking about your partner. Where is she?”

“She was in the city when the violence started, and she hasn't returned.”

“Oh.”

“I have to find out what happened to her. As soon as we're done here, I'm going into the city to look for her.”

“I'm coming with you.” Meg raised her eyebrows, so Cheri continued, “Maybe someone knows what happened to Grayson.”

Meg frowned. “I wonder if his disappearance had anything to do with what happened today.”

“She's not authorized...” Derek started.

“Don't even,” Cheri said. “You're not supposed to be here either.”

“I'm wounded.”

“Speaking of,” Meg said, getting to her feet, “off with the shirt, Lloyd.”

He gave her a wicked grin. “I'm not in any shape to...”

“Off.”

“Here,” Cheri said crossly, “allow me.”

She got up and grabbed the bottom of Derek's t-shirt. Despite his stormy expression and definite size advantage, he lifted his arms when her eyes told him to and allowed her to bring the shirt up and over his head. Meg tried not to look at his chest, even though it was a very nice chest, reminding herself that Fraser would not approve.

“I'll go get the alcohol, cream, and fresh bandages. There's not much left, so we'll have to get some more if you're staying here in Marda,” Meg told him.

As she went into the bathroom, she could still hear Derek and Cheri bickering. Meg didn't know whether to be amused or annoyed.

By the time she got back to the living room, Cheri had taken off Derek's bandage and was examining his knife wound. 

“How's it look?”

Cheri prodded Derek's side, causing him to grunt. “Not too bad. Has he been drinking lots of water? He needs it to replace the blood he lost. Look how pale he is.”

“He drank plenty yesterday. I don't know about today.”

“Stop talking about me as if I'm not here and do what you've got to do,” Derek growled.

“Is he always so pleasant?” Meg asked.

“This is pleasant for him. Give me that stuff. I'll do it for you. I'm used to his bellyaching.”

“I know a hundred ways to kill you with my bare hands, Cheri.”

Meg silently handed over her medical supplies and left Chere to her ministrations. Meg was hungry, and she wanted a shower. It had been a very long day, but it would probably be an even longer evening.

XXX

Meg didn't want to wait until the next day to search for Frannie because every minute could mean the difference between life and death. Because of this, she dressed in character, wearing tight jeans and a clean t-shirt. She made sure there would be room for a gun in the waistband and shoved some money in her pocket. Cheri went to her own room and showed and changed as well.

When they were both ready, they left Derek on the couch and headed down to the lobby. Once there, they saw the hotel had been shut down and people were only being let outside for emergencies.

Not knowing how long the lockdown would last, and not willing to wait, Meg decided to sneak out.

“You can stay here, if you like,” she told Cheri. “I'm not planning on being gone long.”

“I'm going to help you find your partner, then you're going to help me find my brother.

“Okay. Let's see about getting out of here then, shall we?”

“Exactly how do we do that? Hotel security is at every door.”

“We'll find an unguarded window.”

“I like the way you think.”

They walked nonchalantly into the lobby, and Meg noticed there was someone unfamiliar at the desk. Several people were gathered around it, demanding to know when they would be allowed to fly home.

Roy Miller was also in the lobby. He was talking quietly to Marie, who still looked terrified. When he spied Meg, he waved and started towards her. She had no choice but to stop and wait.

“Janet, there you are.”

“Hi.”

“They aren't going to be opening the lounge again for at least a week, so we can hold off on practicing for a couple of days. Did your cousin show up?”

“No.” Meg shook her head. She didn't have to feign her worry.

“She might be all right. Don't jump to conclusions.”

“How am I supposed to know if they won't let anyone in or out of the hotel until morning?”

“You'll just have to be patient.”

“That's easy for you to say.”

“I'm sorry.”

Meg just gave him a sharp nod and walked away, unwilling to say something she might regret later.

She wandered down the corridor she had taken to find Derek, and Cheri followed quietly behind. Meg had decided, since the lounge and restaurant were closed, that's where she'd start looking for a way out.

The corridor was quiet. The only noise they heard came from the playroom. Apparently, some of the children hadn't been traumatized. Their healthy screeches and laughter lightened Meg a little. 

The lounge was dark as Meg went in using her key. It was also quiet and still, so she doubted anyone was in there. As soon as the door was closed, she turned on the light.

“So, you're really the lounge singer?” Cheri asked.

“Well, I will be if the lounge ever opens again. Why?”

“You don't seem like much of a lounge singer to me.”

“What's a lounge singer supposed to act like?”

Cheri frowned. “I don't know. I don't think they're supposed to go around shooting people in the head.”

Meg actually laughed. “Then don't you think it's a good cover?”

“I suppose you're right. Can you actually sing?”

Meg shrugged. “Some. I sang in choirs as a girl. I considered taking music in university.”

She had never told anyone that before, and she didn't know why it slipped out.

“You're an interesting woman.”

“You'd think so, but not really. Can we talk about this later? It's not getting any earlier.”

Cheri flashed her a smile before going to open the drapes on the far side of the room. 

“Anything?” Meg asked.

“None of these open.”

“You're sure?”

“Do you want to check?”

“No. We'll look in the back. Steph told me there's a staff room.”

“Steph?...Oh, yeah. Steff.”

They went behind the bar and Meg found the room Frannie had described to her. All that was missing was a very tall red head. The room was a bright contrast to the lounge, and the yellow curtains at the windows were wide open.

“Lookie here,” Cheri said triumphantly. “Do you think we'll fit through? We'll have to take out the screen.”

“Great.” Meg hurried over. “It's going to be tight, but I think we'll be okay.”

“You might be fine. My big boobs could get stuck in there.”

Meg eyed her and eyed the small window. “I think it's big enough.”

“What have I got to lose, right?” Cheri grinned at her.

Meg opened the window and started working on the screen. After a few seconds, Cheri continued, “What do you think of Derek?”

Meg frowned. “He annoys the hell out of me.”

“He is annoying.”

“How long have you known him?”

“Since he was Richard Watson.”

“I beg your pardon?” Meg almost dropped the screen that had come off in her hands.

“A rogue agent killed the real Derek Lloyd about four years ago. She was a high up and canceled all of Richard's access to the Agency. She didn't think to do it for a dead man, so Richard became Derek and brought her down. I'm not sure why he stayed Derek. He doesn't talk about it.”

“I'll bet he doesn't talk about a lot of things.” Meg placed the screen at her feet.

“Besides the annoying part, what do you think of him?”

“He's okay, I guess. Do you have a thing for Derek, Cheri?” 

Her eyes widened. “No. Of course not. I was wondering if you do. He's a good looking guy.”

Meg thought she was protesting a little too much. “He is, but I already have a...significant other.”

“Isn't it hard, living the life you do?”

“Fraser and I are used to..complications.”

“Complications, huh?”

“Yes. Do you want to go through the window first or should I?”

“Well, we know for sure you'll fit. You'd better go first.”

Meg shrugged and went head first through the low window. She slithered out and onto cobbled stones.

“This is really tight,” Cheri was saying behind her as she attempted to do the same. Meg was starting to wonder if she should help her when Cheri came tumbling out on her face.

“Are you okay?”

“Fine.” Cheri picked herself up, spitting out dirt. “Where to first?”

“She was going to the drugstore for supplies for Derek, so I thought we'd start there.”

“Sounds good.”

The streets were almost deserted. The few people that braved the aftermath of La Terreur's strike walked quickly with their eyes on the ground.

Meg was relieved to find the nearest drugstore open. The isles were practically empty, but there was a wide eyed young man behind the counter. She made a beeline for him, plastering on her friendliest smile.

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

“I'm looking for a friend of mine. She might have been here when the attacks started....”

“Then she's gone.”

Meg blanked her face so he wouldn't see her dismay. “Gone?”

“La Terreur rounded up everyone and trucked them out of here.”

“They didn't kill them?” Cheri asked.

“Not here. I was watching from the back.”

“Then you might know if my friend was among the taken.”

“Maybe. What did she look like?”

“She's petite, shorter than I am but not as short as Cherie. Her hair's dark and about this long, and her eyes are dark as well. She is very pretty.”

The young man thought for a moment. “Was she dressed in a Paradise Hotel t-shirt that showed her stomach?”

“Yes, that was her.”

He nodded. “Yes...She was taken with the others. I'm sorry.”

“Do you know why they wanted prisoners?”

“No.” He shook his head.

“Okay, thanks for your help.”

As Meg and Cheri went back out into the street, Cheri asked, “What now?”

“I'm not sure, but somehow we've got to find Frannie—before it's too late.”


	10. Chapter 10

Time crawled by in the huge, windowless room. As fear faded somewhat, conversations started and the children even began to play. 

Frannie got bored and decided to explore their surroundings. She tapped Emily on the shoulder, and the two of them started a circuit around the large room. They discovered a box full of blankets and a door that led to an actual bathroom with a toilet, a bathtub, and a sink. That seemed to tie in to Dora's belief that the La Terreur soldiers weren't planning on killing them. There was even toilet paper, but Frannie wasn't sure how long that would last with so many people using it.

“Wow, now all we need is a washer and a change of clothes,” Emily commented, looking the crude, white, and slightly grubby bathroom over.

“I think they expect us to wash our clothes in the tub,” Frannie told her, closing the door.

Their eyes fell on a group of children playing nearby, and Emily's smile faded. “We've got to get them out of here, Steph.”

“I know....The only way I've been able to think of is to either break out when they feed us or wait until they let us out for whatever we're here for and make a run for it. The only thing is, those are both dangerous. I don't want to get anyone killed.”

Emily nodded. “It's one thing to willingly get ourselves killed. Someone else is a different story.”

“One time my...um...cousin and I escaped from a wacko by bonking him on the head.”

Emily raised her eyebrows. “What was the wacko doing?”

“You don't want to know.”

“Did he have a gun? Because our major problem is guns.”

“Not him, no.”

“I wonder...

“What is it?” Frannie asked.

“I was just thinking of the building's structure. I wonder if there's a way to break out.”

“It will be hard without windows.”

“There's got to be a...”

The sound of the door rattling silenced them both. They shared a questioning look before hurrying towards the front. Frannie's first thought was to try to get a look outside.

Two men came in; they looked menacing. One of them started talking quickly, but Frannie had no idea what he was saying.

“He wants three of us to go with him to cook for them,” Dora said.

“Let's volunteer,” Frannie told Emily.

“You're crazy,” Dora replied. “Nobody volunteers in this kind of situation.”

“I do. What about you, Emily?”

“I'm with you.”

The guards were pointing at a small dark haired woman. Frannie thought her name was Candace.

“Tell them,” Frannie insisted, so Dora started talking to the guards, pointing at Frannie and Emily. “Tell them I like to cook and that I want some fresh air.”

The terrorist listened to what Dora was saying and waved his gun at Frannie and Emily. They joined Candace and the five of them went out.

It was night, and the sky was filled with a million stars. Frannie hadn't seen anything like it since she'd been in England. Toronto and Chicago certainly didn't have stars like that.

“This way,” one of the men said. His accent was very thick, but at least he was speaking English.

The small town was still practically deserted. Even the animals were gone this time—put to bed for night, Frannie supposed. There was a light burning in just one of the small houses, and she could see shadows moving behind the window. Besides that, the only sign she could see of life was the dim form of a guard outside the building that held the kidnapped men.

Frannie, Emily, and Candace were being led towards the house with lights. Their guards were keeping a good eye on them but Frannie though this was still her best chance to escape. She just hoped that Emily and Candace wouldn't get hurt in the attempt. Despite her willingness to help, Emily was just a pre-school teacher from Baffin Island, and Candace had no idea what they were planning.

Frannie looked up and caught Emily's eye. Emily winked, and Frannie felt a momentary pang of guilt for getting a civilian involved.

Making up her mind to act, Frannie threw herself backwards into one of the men. Before his partner could react, Emily tackled him, and they both landed on the ground. His gun clattered as it hit the dirt beside him. 

The man Frannie bumped into tried to grab her. She twisted and caught his gun in her hand, turning it away as it fired.

Emily struggled with the man she'd bowled over. Candace looked as if she were in shock, but she gathered her wits enough to kick his gun away. He was quickly gaining the upper hand on Emily, but Frannie couldn't help because she had all she could do to keep her opponent's gun from aiming at her.

He was strong, but she was scared and determined. So far, the guard in front of the second barn hadn't noticed them, but if he did before they escaped, they'd probably die.

Candace looked unsure of what to do for just another second more before she jumped on top of the man who was making headway into subduing Emily.

Frannie bit down hard on her own captor's arm and he cried out, letting go of his gun. She twisted again, first kicking him in the shin then kneeing him solidly in the crotch. As he bent and staggered, she elbowed him as hard as she could in the back of the head.

The guard in the distance finally heard their struggle. He let out a yell and started running towards them.

All thoughts of stealth gone, Frannie aimed her stolen gun at the man she'd knocked to the ground. He was coming to his feet, angry as a bear, so she closed her eyes and shot.

Working together, Emily and Candace managed to get away from their opponent, though he made a close grab at Emily as she got to her feet. When Frannie opened her yes, she saw both this and that she'd shot her own opponent in the leg. She fired a shot at the man reaching for Emily, clipping him in the shoulder. He cried out and fell backwards.

“Come on, girls. Grab his gun and let's go,” Frannie said and started running for the trees. If they could get into the forest, they'd be safe for the night—at least from the terrorists.

“What about the others?” Emily asked.

“We'll come back for them, but we've got to be alive to do it.”

“Agreed.”

The three of them started running as fast as they could for the trees. Behind them, the third guard was firing wildly. 

“We're almost there,” she said breathlessly. “Keep running.”

Some part of her was sure they wouldn't make it, so she almost collapsed with relief when the three of them were swallowed up by the darkness under the trees.

“They might come looking for us, so we've got to find somewhere to hide.”

“Who are you guys?” Candace asked.

“I'm a cocktail waitress at the Paradise Hotel,” Frannie told her.

Emily added, “And I'm a teacher.”

“Self defense classes are awesome.”

“We should have brought a light,” Emily changed the subject. They could only see each other as outlines, it was so dark.

“No, it'll be harder to find us this way. Let's get deeper in. We don't want to get killed.”

“I'm all for not getting killed.”

“Yeah,” Candace agreed, “me too.”

XXX

After they found out about the abductions, Meg and Cheri went around asking questions of everyone they could find in the area. Many of them were too scared to talk, but from the others they learned that four or five trucks full of people, mostly men, were driven out of the city. No one knew where they were going but a few people had seen what road they left on. Meg wanted to interrogate someone from La Terreur, but, unfortunately, those left in the city had all been rounded up and taken away by the city guard.

“What do we do now?” Cheri asked as they headed back to the hotel.

“We question Lloyd and see if he knows more than he's saying. Something tells me he always plays on a need to know basis. Then we're going to search your brother's room. He hasn't been gone long enough for them to clean and reassign it. Maybe Lloyd missed something.”

“Maybe we'll even find a clue about Grayson.”

“I was thinking that as well.”

“His last roommate left a month ago, so it would only be his things...”

Meg lifted her eyebrows. “You were in touch with him?”

“Yeah. Letters.”

“Wasn't that dangerous?”

“He never broke character, and they went to and from a post office in Vancouver before being sent on to us. We're each other's only family and we were careful.”

“Hmmnn.” Meg wondered if it would be possible to contact Fraser and her father the same way. It was something she'd have to discuss with Layton when she got home.

The hotel was still shut down when they returned, so they snuck in the same way they'd snuck out.

On the way down the corridor, they heard voices, so they slipped into the playroom. Several children were still in there playing, their parents trying to maintain pleasant faces to retain a false air of normality.

Meg and Cheri had just settled onto one of the benches beside a spooked looking mother whose smile kept slipping when the door opened and two men dressed in the hotel colors stepped in.

“Attention!” a man wearing shorts and a blazer said, “I wanted to inform you that, since the dining room and lounge are closed and no one is allowed out of the hotel, the police are allowing us to have food brought in. It is only pizza, but one will be served to each room. Please go to your rooms and call the front desk with preferences of vegetarian or deluxe. Also, let them know of any allergies. Substitutions will be made if necessary.”

The people started packing up their children, and Meg went up to the man who spoke.

“Does this include staff, sir?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Will you be feeding the staff as well or just the guests?”

“And you are?”

“Janet Scott. I sing in the lounge.”

“We met during the crisis,” Cheri told him, batting her eyelashes. “We hid out together. I'm one of the guests. Cheri Daniels.”

“The staff have their own kitchens, Ms. Daniels. They do not need us to feed them. However, you are welcome to share your pizza with Ms. Scott, if you like. Please, go to your room and phone the front desk. We expect the pizzas to arrive in a couple of hours.”

“All right. Thanks.”

“Yes,” Meg said, narrowing her eyes, “thank you.”

“You're welcome.” He wasn't even looking at them anymore.

“Well, shall we?” Meg asked, choosing to ignore him.

Cheri gave her a little half smile. “We shall.”

“So,” Meg said once they were in the servant's elevator, “we have to be in your room when the pizza is delivered. We don't want anyone looking for us. Do you think we'll have time to search your brother's room?”

Cheri frowned in thought. “Making pizzas for all these people will take time. Moseby said about two hours. I think it will be closer to four. You?”

“That's what I was thinking. We should have lots of time, even after we talk to Derek.”

They found Derek fast asleep in Frannie's bed. He was on top of the covers with his shirt off and the button on his jeans undone. His skin seemed a little less white, showing some of his color had come back. Meg had to admit—no matter how she felt about him as a person or how uninterested in him she was—he was awfully nice to look at. 

“I almost don't want to wake him up,” Cheri said. “He looks so peaceful.”

“And quiet.” Meg smirked.

“That too.”

“Still, we can't get answers from him if he's asleep.”

Meg sat down on the side of the bed and leaned over Derek. He was snoring softly, and he even smelled good, as if he had washed while they were gone. Gently, she shook his shoulders.

Immediately, his eyes popped open. In a quick movement, he rolled over and Meg found herself pinned to the bed with her body pressed to the mattress. Her eyes widened in surprise, and she felt tingles in places she shouldn't have. Still, she managed to scowl at Derek and grind out, “Get off of me.”

Sense came into his eyes and he searched her face. “Sorry.”

“Derek?”

He winced and rolled off of her. “Never sneak up on me. Never.”

“It's not very safe to do what you did to me, either. Think about where my knee was.”

“Are you two done?” Cheri sounded annoyed.

“Yeah,” Derek said, running his hand down his f ace. “Sure.”

Meg felt herself blushing as she pushed herself into a sitting position. Even though she told herself there was no reason for it, she couldn't help it. What happened would have been embarrassing enough even without Cheri there to witness it. With her there, Meg felt as if she had been caught doing something she shouldn't.

She cleared her throat. “We...uh...we woke you up for a reason.”

“What is it?”

“Well,” Cheri sat down beside Meg, “we want to know what you're not telling us.”

A frown darkened Lloyd's face. “What do you mean?”

“She means, tell us everything you know about La Terreur,” Meg said pointedly.

“The Music Man was the expert...”

“Listen, if you want me to find out what happened to him...and possibly kill the group's leader, you're going to have to give me something to go on. There's no more sitting here quietly posing as the lounge singer while the information comes to me. That plan was overturned today. I'm not going to just sit here while anything could be happening to my partner.”

“Your job is to...”

“Finding Frannie is part of my job, Lloyd...and it might even lead to finding out everything. Now talk.”

Her glare was as good as his. He eyed her for several seconds but was the first to look away.

“I really don't know much more than I told you. I know a bit about their criminal activities and that Grayson thought there were several infiltrators and sympathizers in the city.”

“Do you know the names of any of these people?”

“One. You know Mary in the bar?”

“The one who took over the Music Man's job?”

“Yeah. Her brother is a member of La Terreur. The Music Man thought she might be working with him.”

Meg looked at Cheri. “We've got to talk to her.”

“And don't forget we need to search my brother's room.”

“I already searched it.,” Derek protested.

Cheri patted his knee familiarly. “You probably missed something.”

“You know something I don't?”

“You're always in a hurry. You miss stuff. You forget, I read your reports.”

“This is not the time,” Meg replied, rising to her feet. “Come on, Cheri. We're wasting time.”

“Here,” Derek said, struggling to get up. “I'll come with you.”

“No.” Meg gently pushed him back down. “You need to rest. We'll be back to let you know what we found out. If you're good, we might even give you some pizza.”

“Pizza?”

“Yeah. Moseby's ordering it for all the guests. Since I am a guest...That reminds me, I've got to call the desk,” Cherie told him and hurried out to the main room.

Derek caught Meg's hand as she went to follow. “Be careful.”

“I always am.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's a short one.

The door to Mary's suite was opened by a pleasant faced girl who couldn't have been much older than Marie. Meg guessed her to be about eighteen.

“Hi?”

“Hello.” Meg smiled. “I'm looking for Mary. Is she here?”

The girl's smile dropped and she shook her head. “I haven't seen her since before the attack. I'm waiting to hear if she's...um...okay.”

“When exactly was the last time you saw her?”

“She was gone when I woke up this morning. I think she might have gone into the city and couldn't get back in.”

“Yes,” Meg said. “It was the same with my roommate. She went to the drugstore, and I don't know what happened to her.”

“You work here?”

“We've only been here two days.”

“I hope she's all right.”

“Me, too. And Mary. If you hear from her, can you call me? I'm in 606.”

“Sure. Who should I tell her...?”

“Oh, sorry. I'm Janet.”

Meg was frowning as she and Cheri continued down the hallway towards the Music Man's room. Was Mary an innocent victim of circumstance or did she have something to do with the attack?

“What do you think?” she asked Cheri quietly.

“I think it's quite a coincidence that she disappeared right before the attacks.”

“I was thinking that as well. Unfortunately, there's nothing we can do about it.”

“Maybe we'll have more luck in Grayson's things.”

“Do you think Lloyd was ever a fan of Sherlock Holmes?”

Cheri gave her a strange look. “What's that supposed to mean?”

“I am, and I have always admired his logic and deductive reasoning. To me, Lloyd seems more like an emotion and gut instinct kind of agent.”

“Yeah. You're probably right. What's your point?”

“Well, he might have searched Grayson's things, but maybe he never thought to look beyond them.”

“Do you mean like the floors and ceilings and stuff?”

“That's exactly what I'm thinking.”

“I have another question,” Cheri said.

“What's that?”

“Do you know how to pick a lock?”

“I don't have to. Lloyd gave me the key.”

“How'd he get it?”

“I didn't ask.”

Cheri thought about this. “That's probably best.”

Meg hoped Mary's roommate wasn't watching them through the spy hole in her door as she and Cheri went up to the Music Man's suite and went inside.

The main living area was really messy, and Meg raised her eyebrows at Cheri. “Do you think Lloyd made this mess?”

“Maybe. Gray's pretty messy, so maybe not.”

“Or maybe someone else searched here.”

“It's possible.”

“If that's the case, hopefully they found no more than Lloyd.”

“So, where do we start?”

“We'll go through all of his stuff, even though it's already been gone through. You never know. Then we'll search the actual structure of the room and see if we can find anything.”

“What if we don't?”

“We'll worry about that if and when it happens.”

That was the last either of them said for a long time as they started a thorough search of the Music Man's room.

It was not hard to believe that he had lived there for five years. The place was full of clutter. There were clothes everywhere and piles of books and papers in most of the corners. The walls of the main room were covered with posters, most of them for science fiction movies and of young actresses. The framed one of Patsy Cline threw Meg for a loop.

She left Cheri in the main room to look and went in search of the Music Man's bedroom. It was much the same as the living room, only there were even more clothes and books.

Even though she knew she'd probably find nothing, Meg sifted carefully through the piles of clothes. She piled all of them along the wall and then started searching the books. She studied each cover for relevance before opening it to shake the pages. All she discovered was that he liked science fiction books as much as he liked science fiction movies.

The top of his dresser was mostly bare. It held a small amount of money and a formal program typed up about Michelle Moore's—Meg's supposed friend and predecessor's—act. Meg pocketed that in case she needed the ideas and opened the first drawer.

It, and the drawers after it, contained nothing more than clothes and some letters from someone named Lula. Meg was puzzled until she saw they were postmarked Vancouver. The Music Man hadn't been the only one using an alias.

“Did you find anything?” Cheri's voice came from the next room.

“Just dirty clothes and books. You?”

“Nothing.”

“Did you look behind the Patsy Cline poster?”

“No, but Derek probably did.”

Meg left the Music Man's room and glanced into the empty one. It was completely bare, except for furniture. Meg wondered if anything could be hidden in those drawers.

“There's nothing on the wall,” Cheri was saying as Meg tried to decide whether the dresser was worth a look, “but...”

Meg was immediately alert. “But what?”

“I think this frame is thicker than it needs to be. What if Gray hid something literally behind the poster?”

“Let's have a look.” Meg hurried into the living room just as Cherie was lifting the poster off of the wall. “This seems like a strange choice when you consider the other posters.”

“Not really. Gray was crazy about Patsy Cline.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. He said she was from a time when it was about voice and music and not about how many millions you could make. My brother was a bit of a throwback.”

“Then it makes sense that she's the one he'd choose to hide his secrets.”

Cheri nodded and put the picture face down on the couch. Quickly, she undid the tabs and took the back off the frame. There was a large envelope taped inside.

“Voila!” Meg commented at the same time Cheri exclaimed, “Bingo!”

Meg took the tape off of the cardboard back and stood to go. When Cheri didn't follow immediately, she asked, “What's wrong?”

“I have to put this back together or Gray will never forgive me.”

Meg gave her an amused half smile and waited patiently for Cheri to fix and replace the picture. They agreed to retrieve Derek before they went to Cheri's room to read the contents and await supper.

“Hey, we're back,” Meg called as she and Cheri went into Meg's rooms.

There was no answer, and Meg decided to check in on Lloyd. She opened Frannie's door and was surprised to find the bed empty. Puzzled, she went into her own room. Derek wasn't there either.

“Cheri,” she called, “Derek's gone.”

“Gone?”

“Yes. I wonder where he went.”

“Should we wait here for him?” Cheri asked as Meg rejoined her in the kitchen.

“We'll give him about ten minutes, then we'll have to go to your room. We don't want anyone to know you haven't been there this whole time.”

“He never tells anyone where he's going,” Cheri complained, opening the fridge and staring at the fruits and vegetables. “Is someone here a health nut?”

“I like fruit and Frannie likes to cook.”

“Okay...Meg...Janet...Whatever your name is. You're going to have to stick with one set of names. You're confusing me.”

“You work for the CIA and this confuses you?”

“What can I say...” She trailed off as Meg's door opened.

They both turned to see Derek Lloyd coming in, his shirt coated with blood.

“Derek, did you reopen your wound?” Cheri asked, slamming the door and rushing forward.

Meg felt her own face paling. She gripped the counter, wondering if it were too late for a doctor.

“Huh?” Derek asked, looking down. “Oh. Relax. It's not mine.”

“Okay.” Meg came out from behind the counter. “You are going to tell me what happened. Right. Now.”

“I got a name for you.”

“What kind of a name?”

“Of a town. Deserted at one point. Not so much anymore.”

“The name?”

“Pas la Fin.”

“Pas la Fin?”

“No, I didn't make it up.”

Meg put her hands on her hips. “And why should I care about this town?”

“Because, if I'm right, it's where they're holding the Godmother. Can I sit down?”

Cheri led him to a chair and he sighed as he collapsed into it.

“How'd you find this out?” Meg demanded.

“Believe me, you don't want to know.”

Meg thought about this. “You're probably right.”

He closed his eyes and leaned back.

“Are you coming up for pizza?” Cheri asked, though Meg couldn't understand how she could think about food knowing Derek had probably just tortured and killed someone in cold blood or that Frannie was out there in this Pas la Fin place awaiting rescue.

“Bring me back a piece.”

“Are you sure?”

He waved at them. “Yeah.”

“We found the Music Man's research,” Meg told him.

Derek's eyes popped open. “How...”

“It was behind Patsy Cline,” Cheri said.

“I looked there.”

“Not in the wall. In the frame.” Meg waved her hand. “That's not important. What is important is going to get Frannie.”

“We can't do anything tonight. Not in the dark when we don't know where we're going.”

“We?”

“You'll need all the fire power you can get...Now, have you read the Music Man's information yet?”

“We haven't had time,” Cheri told him. “I don't want to be discovered missing.”

“Okay.” Derek got up and peeled off his shirt. “Ready.”

Meg looked him up and down and asked the obvious question. “Ready for what, exactly?”

“Funny. Get the information and we'll go. After we eat and find out what the Music Man recorded, we'll pack and get ready to leave at dawn.”

“Do you know where Pas la Fin is?”

“Not a clue, but I know how we can find out.”

“Are you going to kill someone else?”

“No. Now let's go. Weren't you worried about the time?”

“Do you want to stop by your room and get another shirt?”

“No. I'm fine. Let's go.”

“All right. All right. Let's go.”


	12. Chapter 12

Frannie really hated waking up with a gun in her face. It was her least favorite way to wake up, and it made her extremely cranky.

This was her first thought as she groggily blinked sleep away. The man standing over her was young and handsome, and he looked vaguely familiar.

“Who are you? What are you doing here?” he demanded quietly.

Frannie raised her hands slowly as Emily and Candice began to stir. When Candace saw the man, she squeaked in fear.

“I'm Steph Scott,” Frannie answered the man in the same soft tone. She took a closer look and added, more loudly, “Hey, I've been looking for you!”

“You've been looking for me?” The man looked incredulous.

“Yeah. It's okay. We're not The Terror. You can put the gun down. We just escaped from them.”

“Why were you looking for me?”

Frannie looked first at Emily then at Candace. “Uh...We have a mutual friend.”

He studied her face with a frown before lowering his weapon. “I see...You said you escaped from La Terreur?”

“Yeah. We were being held in a building back there.” She waved vaguely in the direction of the tiny village.

“What's going on?” Emily asked sleepily.

“How did you escape?” he asked, ignoring her.

“We beat up the guards.”

Amusement came to his eyes. “Did you now?”

“Yes, we did.”

“Start from the beginning.”

“Look, it's been a real bad twenty-four hours. Do you think you could bring us somewhere more comfortable to talk?”

He tucked his gun in the back of his jeans and reached a hand down to Emily. “Sure.”

“Steph?” she asked.

“It's okay. I know him...sort of...and something tells me if he had joined the rebels, he wouldn't be wandering around out here.”

“Okay.” Emily accepted his hand and let him pull her to her feet.

He also helped Frannie and Candace up.

“Come on,” he said. “I found a small hut, and I've been living in it. The rebels think it's deserted and haven't bothered me.”

“I thought you were dead,” Frannie told him. “How'd you get here?”

“CIA?”

“No.” Frannie shook her head.

He frowned. “FBI?”

“No.”

“I give up. What are you?”

“NACT.”

“NACT?

“You haven't heard of us?”

Emily was watching their conversation with interest, though Candace seemed zoned out.

The Music Man thought about this for a few seconds before comprehension dawned on his face. “Those are the new guys, right? That American-Canadian thing?”

“That's us.”

He gestured at Emily. “That your partner?”

“No. We got separated. This is Emily from Iqaluit.”

Emily raised her hand. “Hi.”

“I'm sorry I didn't tell you I was a government agent,” Frannie told her. “I'm not supposed to. My real name is Frannie. I came to Marda with my partner to find him.”

“It's okay...I think...Can you guys tell me what's going on?”

“We'll share stories once we get out of the open. Come on, my shack's just up ahead,” the Music Man said.

“It's a good thing.” Frannie really looked at Candace for the first time since they woke. Her face was the color of parchment, and she was shaking. “I think Candace is in shock.”

They hurried the rest of the way to the Music Man's shack, Emily gently leading Candace. The building was in a lot better shape than Frannie had expected, and she wasn't even afraid the roof would fall on her head as she and Emily got Candace comfortably settled in and wrapped in blankets. Despite the heat outside, her skin was ice cold. 

Once they were satisfied they had done all they could, Frannie, Emily, and the Music Man sat on dilapidated wooden crates around a rough wooden table.

“So, Steph whose real name is Frannie, how did you get here?” he asked, pouring them tea out of a battered kettle.

“Well...” She took a sip to order her thoughts. It was a habit she had picked up from Meg. “When you disappeared almost two weeks ago, the CIA was afraid you'd been killed. I guess what you're doing must be important because they asked Layton—that's my boss—to send me and Meg down here to look for you. I started working at the Paradise Hotel as a waitress in the lounge. I only worked one shift before...”

“Before?” he prodded when she trailed off.

“The rebels invaded the city,” Emily told him. “It was horrible. They were shooting people at random, and those they didn't shoot they locked up in a big barn.”

“They actually went into the city?” the Music Man frowned.

“Yes.”

“Then what happened?”

“I met Emily in the barn,” Frannie explained. “We decided to find a way to escape. We got our chance when they asked for volunteers to cook.”

Emily added, “We thought if we could get free, we could free the others later.” 

“We fought with our guards and escaped.”

“Who are you?” Emily asked.

“He's the Music Man...Richard Handspiker, but that's probably not his real name...”

“No,” the Music Man agreed. “It's not. I'm CIA, Emily. I was sent to Marda five years ago to neutralize La Terreur. Last week, my real identity was discovered, and I had to run, leaving almost everything behind. I'd heard about what they were planning at Pas la Fin, so I decided to keep watch over them. I saw them bring in the prisoners yesterday.”

“Have you found out who their leader is?” Frannie asked.

“Not yet. I plan on catching one of their soldiers alone and...finding out what he knows.”

Frannie winced but left that comment alone. “Do you know who discovered who you were?”

“Yeah, it was Mary.”

“Mary the bartender?” Frannie's eyes widened.

“Mary the waitress, as I knew her, but I suppose she could be Mary the bartender now.”

“But she's so nice.”

“She's also an assassin for La Terreur.”

“An assassin?”

“Yeah. She's killed at least four people that I know of. I didn't want to be number five.”

“But she's so...well, tiny,” Frannie protested again.

“I learned a long time ago not to underestimate someone who's small. My sister's not much taller than Mary, but I'd never want to get on her bad side.”

“This is all quite interesting but how does it get us and the others back to safety?” Emily asked.

“I don't know if there is any safety if La Terreur has invaded the city,” the Music Man said honestly.

“We can at least free them. It's got to be better in the city than whatever La Terreur has planned for them out here...which we're pretty sure is slave labour for a new rebel base,” Frannie argued.

“That's what I think, too. My first priority is...and always has been...to kill their leader.”

“We should be able to do both. I'm not leaving those people there.” She crossed her arms and set her jaw stubbornly.

“What's your plan?”

Frannie looked at Emily, who said, “We don't exactly have one yet.”

“Perfect. How do you expect us to free all those people and get them back to Paradis de Mer without getting someone killed? Unlike La Terreur, we don't have trucks and men and weapons.”

“There has to be a way,” Frannie said firmly. “There has to...There are children in there.”

“I tell you what, I'll make us some breakfast, and we'll discuss our options. I don't want those people to die any more than you do. Deal?”

“Deal.”

XXX

“Meg...Meg...”

A soft voice called to her and she vainly tried to block it out. In protest, she rolled over, burying her head under the free pillow.

“Meg, wake up!” The voice was firmer and reluctantly Meg let it pull her from sleep.

“What time is it?” she grumbled.

“Five-thirty.”

Cheri sounded way too cheery for five-thirty in the morning. Meg usually woke up at seven, but it was more an exercise in discipline than a desire to be up. The truth was, she actually hated getting up early and had since she was a child.

It was especially hard this morning because it had been a bad night. Sleep had been elusive for most of it. She had drifted off somewhere around three, and her body was insisting that two and a half hours was just not enough sleep.

“Already?”

“Yeah. Come on, Derek's waiting...”

After their pizza the night before, the three of them had come back up to Meg's room to sleep. Cheri had taken Frannie's room, and Derek had his usual place on the couch.

Before the'dy retired, they'd discussed the information found in the Music Man's hidden envelope. There had been a lot on La Terreur itself and its criminal activities. There had also been information on undercover infiltrators and sympathizers. Even though there was lots of information, there were some important facts missing. The Music Man still didn't know who was leading the rebels, and there were no mentions in the notes of Pas la Fin. Most importantly, there were no clues to tell them why he had disappeared. 

It was with some disappointment that they had packed their bags and gone to bed.

“Why are you so cheerful this morning?” Meg asked, sliding the pillow off of her head.

“I'm just glad to finally be doing something.”

With a sigh, Meg got out of bed and grabbed some clothes. Everything would look so much better after a shower.

Derek was at the stove cooking something in a frying pan when she entered the main room. It smelled like bacon and eggs, and Meg couldn't imagine eating something that greasy before six in the morning.

“Any idea how we're going to get a vehicle?” Meg asked.

“I've got one,” Cheri assured her. “What are you doing?”

“Taking a shower. Who knows when the next one will be?”

“All right,” Derek said, “while you're doing that, I'm gonna go find out where Pas la Fin is. Cheri, watch the breakfast.”

Cheri twirled into a smart salute. “Yes, sir.”

Meg just rolled her eyes and went into the bathroom. She did not have the patience for Derek and Cheri's bickering—at least not before at least two cups of coffee.

She felt slightly better ten minutes later when she came back into the main room rubbing a towel over her hair. Derek wasn't back yet, and Cheri was spooning eggs into three plates.

“Feel better?” Cheri asked.

“Alive, at least.”

“Come eat before it gets cold.”

“I'm not really...”

“We don't know when we'll eat again.”

Meg grimaced, throwing her towel on a chair. Cheri was right. “All right, if you insist. Is there any more orange juice?”

“Sure.” Cheri reached in the cupboard and got some glasses.

“You don't have to do that,” Meg protested.

“Don't argue, just sit.”

Meg raised an eyebrow at her. “Do you have children?”

“What difference does that make?”

She felt herself smiling. “None, I suppose.”

The two of them had just started eating when Derek came back in.

“Hey, smells good.”

“Did you find out where we're going?” Meg asked.

“Yup.”

She waited for him to expand. When he didn't, she asked, “Are you going to tell us?”

“Nope.”

He swung himself into his chair, and Meg was pleased to see he was moving much better. Instead of arguing with him, she smothered her protests with orange juice. There'd be time to torture it out of him later.

They ate their breakfast quickly and then each had a bracing cup of coffee before Cheri threw some fruit in one of their bags and they headed out.

“So, what are we going to do when we get there?” Meg asked as they got on the elevator. “It's not as if we can drive right up to them.”

“We'll be okay,” Derek assured her.

They had to be. There was no way that Meg was going to abandon Frannie. Plus, there was a good chance that this town, this Pas la Fin, held the answers to everything.

“How far away is the village?” Cheri asked as they drove out of the city.

“About an hour,” Derek said without taking his eyes off the road.

He had taken the driver's seat because he knew where he was going, and Meg hadn't protested when Cheri took the front seat beside him.

“I hope you know how to fire that gun,” Derek said to Cheri, flicking his gaze to her for a second.

“Oh, please. I've worked for the Agency for ten years.”

“As a secretary.”

“I was an administrative assistant, thank you very much.”

“Much shooting enemy agents in that?”

“Don't be a smart ass. You pick things up. I never would have felt safe if I hadn't learned to protect myself.”

“Have you ever shot anybody?”

“I'm getting pretty close right now,” she said darkly.

Derek actually laughed at that. “You wouldn't shoot a wounded man, would you?”

Meg rolled her eyes and tuned them out. She placed her forehead against the cool glass of the window and let the sway of the SUV sooth her. To help calm her mind, she thought about Fraser. Just thinking of him was a comfort, and Meg found herself drifting slowly towards sleep just as Derek drove off of the main road and onto a lumpy, overgrown track.

XXX

It took some convincing, because the Music Man wanted to do several more days of surveillance before he made his move, but Frannie eventually got him to agree to help her and Emily save the prisoners.

As far as he knew, the town was normally manned with one to two dozen soldiers while the others were off doing terrorist and criminal activities. That seemed a lot more beatable than the fifty Frannie had been fearing. Their plan was to somehow disable the guards so they could get the prisoners back to the city before reinforcements arrived in the village.

After the Music Man's acquiescence, they talked about their options. It became abundantly clear that their only hope was the element of surprise. They were going to have to neutralize all of the guards without giving themselves away.

They talked things over and over until it seemed the only thing left to do was reconnaissance to see if they could make their move.

Frannie went to check on Candace one more time. The younger woman seemed to be sleeping peacefully, so Frannie tucked in the blanket and went back to the others.

“She's fine; she's sleeping.”

“Maybe we should leave her a note,” Emily suggested, “in case she wakes up alone and is frightened.”

“Or you can just tell her,” the Music Man said, checking his gun.

“How can I...Oh. No, you're not leaving me behind. Listen...What do I call you, anyway?” Fire sparked in Emily's eyes and turned her sweet face stubborn.

“My name is Grayson. You can call me that, if you want. I answer to Music Man or Ricky, too. It's up to you.”

“Listen, Grayson,” she stressed his name angrily, “I'm not staying here with Candace. You might think I'm just some innocent teacher from Iqaluit, but I'm not going to sit here and let those people hurt children. I might not look like much, but I'm tough.”

“Do you know how to fire a gun?”

“I've been hunting before. I didn't really enjoy it, but I know one end of a rifle from another.” She shrugged.

“Do you think you could kill a man if you had to?”

She thought about this for a moment. “I honestly don't know. How am I supposed to know that when I've never had to face it before?”

“I don't know...”

“She's come this far,” Frannie told him. “She was able to escape the guards with me. Three people are better than two.”

“It's too dangerous to involve a civilian.”

“I'm already involved.” Emily met the Music Man glare for glare.

Finally, he sighed. “Okay, but if you die—or get these people killed—don't blame me.”

He angrily shoved his gun in his waistband and started for the door.

“Wait a minute,” Frannie insisted.

“What now?”

She just held up her hand while she searched for a pen and a piece of paper. Eventually, she found a stub of a pencil and a piece of a paper bag. With them, she dashed a quick, “Candace, we'll be back soon. Eat if you're hungry. There's tea on the sideboard. Steph.”

“Okay, now we're ready.”

It was late morning and the sun was shining. Frannie felt both excited and frightened. She had never considered herself a brave person, but she liked sticking up for people who couldn't stick up for themselves.

When they plunged into the jungle, Frannie worried at first that the Music Man was just wandering aimlessly. Relief replaced the worry as she realized how confidently he was moving. He was also almost silent, which was more than Frannie could say of either herself or Emily. 

At one point, the Music Man turned and echoed Frannie's thoughts. “You two sound like elephants. We are trying to catch these people by surprise, you know.”

“Sorry,” Frannie told him. “Who knew leaves could make so much noise?”

“We'll be more careful when we get closer to the village,” Emily promised.

“I hope so.”

“You could try being a little nicer here,” Frannie said.

“If this doesn't go well, both of our missions are completely blown.”

“I'm more concerned about the people who could die.”

“If we fail, they could just be the tip of the iceberg.”

“Then we'll just have to not fail, right?”

“Sounds good to me,” Emily agreed.

“Are you sure you're okay with this?” Frannie asked her.

“I'm going to have to be, aren't I? It's too late to turn back now.”

Frannie touched her arm. “It'll be okay.”

“And if it's not,” Grayson said grimly, “you'll be too dead to care.”

“Nice one.” Frannie scowled at him.

He just turned his back on her and started moving silently through the foliage.

“Ready?” Frannie asked Emily.

“Yes.”

Frannie tried to be more quiet this time around, but the Music Man just moved so fast. She hoped he'd slow down when they got closer to the village. 

After what seemed like hours of silence, Grayson stopped and said quietly, “We're approaching the road, so we'll have to be more careful from now on. We don't want anyone to see or hear us.”

“Gotcha,” Frannie told him.

“Are you sure you're an agent?”

“Funny, Ricky. Are we going to stand around here buffaloing or are we going to save some people?”

The Music Man just shook his head and turned to go on. He stopped as abruptly as he'd started.

“What's wrong?” Frannie asked quietly.

“I hear a car. There's someone coming.”

“Rebels?”

“Who else would be out here?”

“Should we look?”

“I don't know...Listen. It sounds like they're going off road.” His face held an expression of concentration.

“Why would they do that?”

“I have no idea. Let's take a peek.”

There were crashes that definitely sounded as if a vehicle had gone off the track. Then the noise stopped and there was the sound of doors slamming.

When Grayson carefully moved forward, Frannie and Emily followed. A white SUV was visible through the trees.

"Are you sure this is the right place?" a skeptical voice asked.

Frannie's eyes widened. "That's Meg."

"Yeah. You'd better not have gotten us lost," another voice added.

Grayson's jaw dropped in shock. "And Cheri?"

"Who's that?" Emily asked, looking completely baffled.

"My partner," Frannie answered with a triumphant grin before pushing past the leaves.

Three guns were pointing at her when she finally broke free. Frannie ignored them and ran up to Meg.

"Meg!"

"Frannie, you're all right!"

"So are you. I thought you were dead."

"I thought you might be, too."

Frannie threw her arms around Meg and hugged her tightly. She didn't care that it was unprofessional. All that mattered was that her partner--and her best friend--was safe.

Meg hugged her back just as tightly, saying, "What happened? How'd you get here in the middle of nowhere?"

"We escaped." She pulled away and pointed to Emily and Grayson.

"Who's we?"

"That's my brother," Cheri said, wide-eyed. "He's alive."

She looked too stunned to even move as the Music Man came forward. "Cheri, what are you doing here?"

"I came to find you."

"Of all the...it's dangerous here. Did you not think about the men with guns?"

She smacked him hard on the shoulder, recovering from the shock of seeing him alive. "Of course I thought about the men with guns. Why do you think I came after you? You're my brother."

"I'm also a trained CIA agent."

"This can wait," Derek said firmly. "What's going on? We thought the Godmother was being held prisoner...and who is this woman?" He pointed at Emily.

"Emily," she said shyly.

"She's with me," Frannie said, cutting off anything Derek might have said. "Now, how did you find us?"

"More importantly," Meg argued, "how did you find him?" She pointed at Grayson.

"He found us," Frannie explained, "when we escaped from The Terror."

"Excuse me," Emily said softly. "I think maybe it would be better if you all started at the beginning instead of throwing questions at each other."

Meg straightened and her face blanked. "Yes, thank you...Emily. I believe you're right. Please, Agent Daniels, tell us how you came to be here."

The Music Man didn't argue with Meg's tone of authority. Frannie had known her long enough to know that people rarely did. He quickly repeated the story he'd shared with her and Emily earlier. When he got to the part about finding Frannie, Emily, and Candace in the jungle, Frannie took over and explained everything that had happened to her since she had been taken in the drugstore. Meg gave her a slight smile when she got to the part about how she and Emily had beaten the guards. Frannie accepted this as a sign of approval.

“So, we're really glad that you're here, but how did you find us?” she finished.

“La Terreur invaded the hotel,” Meg answered. “Derek and I tried to get as many guests as we could to safety. That's how I ran into Cheri, who was at the Paradise Hotel looking for her brother. Afterward, we found out that you'd been captured. Derek managed to get someone to tell him where you were being held, so we've come to rescue you. We thought there might be a clue here as to where the Music Man was. We didn't expect to actually find him.”

“You came to rescue me?” Frannie asked.

“Yes, but I can see that you were perfectly capable of rescuing yourself.”

Frannie gave her a grin. “It's always nice to have backup.”

“Indeed. Why are you wandering around out here?”

“We're going to free the rest of the prisoners.”

“Just the three of you?”

“It was worth a shot. They have kids there, Meg.”

Meg's face tightened. Frannie's partner liked to pretend she was cold and unfeeling, but Frannie knew it was a sham.

“There's somewhere between twelve and twenty-four guards,” the Music Man said. “With six of us, this might just be manageable...and I'll need one of them alive to question. I intend to complete my mission.”

“What's your plan?” Lloyd asked.

“We don't have one yet,” Frannie admitted.

Grayson hurried to explain, “We wanted to see how many guards we were dealing with and where they were situated first.”

“That was pretty much our plan, too.” Cheri said.

“How far are we from Pas la Fin?” Meg asked.

“About a fifteen minute walk, maybe a little more going through the jungle,” Grayson told her.

It was finally as he was saying this that his sister suddenly grabbed him and gave him a quick hug. “I thought you were dead.”

“I know. It's okay. I'm okay. Everything's going to be okay.”

Frannie hoped he was right.


	13. Chapter 13

Meg checked her gun for about the millionth time since she'd been sitting alone with Derek overlooking the tiny village of Pas la Fin. She was starting to feel restless, and she wanted to be doing something. She had always considered herself to be a patient person, but they had been on the hill for over an hour. There were only one pair of binoculars and, since they were Derek's, he insisted on using them himself.

Each of the big buildings had a guard, there was one watching over the four trucks, and there were about five men—as seen through Derek's binoculars—in the occupied house. That was only eight and less than the twelve they'd been expecting. Meg had seen two women being taken into the occupied house, so there were two civilians to watch out for.

“Not much to see,” Derek said quietly.

“No,” she agreed.

“Should be doable.”

“Yes.”

“We should send the two civilians to start the trucks after we get rid of that guard. That will be the least dangerous place for them. From what the Godmother said, there are about a hundred and fifty people here. We will probably each have to drive a truck.”

“Derek...Our mission is to find the Music Man and kill the leader of La Terreur, if possible, but I want you to know, I'm putting the safety of those prisoners down there in front of murder. I'm not going to let anyone die when I can save them, especially children.”

“I know.”

“Do you?”

“Yes.”

“And you can live with that?”

“I think we can do both as long as at least one of the guards is taken alive. Now, let's go meet the others and come up with a plan.”

Meg stood and brushed off the back of her jeans. She had no idea why she bothered when they'd probably be getting a lot dirtier before the day was done.

When they got to their prearranged meeting spot, Cheri and the Music Man were already there. He was standing, tensed, but she was sitting on the ground eating an apple. When she saw Meg, she raised her hand to wave. “Hey.”

“Hey. Any sign yet of Frannie?”

“Not yet. What did you guys find out?”

“There seem to be less guards than we thought.”

“That's what it looked like to us, too.” The others had also been studying the area but from different vantage points.

“We might actually be able to do this,” the Music Man commented. “We'll get those people back to the city, then I'll hunt down the leader and kill him.”

“What about Mary?” Meg asked. “We can't have her murdering people on La Terreur's behalf.”

“One thing at a time,” Derek said.

Meg winced as she heard the crunching noises that signaled Frannie and Emily's return. Emily flushed when she noticed all eyes on her, but Frannie just said, “There's not much going on. The only guy I could see was by the trucks.”

“We only saw about eight people in all,” Meg added. “Your man with the trucks, a guard for each barn, and about five going in and out of the house.”

“We didn't see any more than that,” the Music Man agreed. “If we're careful, we should be able to free the prisoners without anyone getting killed.”

“Everybody sit,” Derek ordered. “Let's figure out what we're going to do.”

Frannie shrugged and dropped to the ground beside Cheri. Meg tried to be a little more elegant, but there really wasn't anywhere to sit but the ground. Emily seemed hesitant, but she folded her legs and sat when Frannie patted the ground beside her. The two men settled one on each side of Meg, facing the three women.

“So,” Derek said, “let's think of the zones we want to cover. We've got the guard with the trucks, we've got the house, and we've got the two holding areas. We've got four guns and six people, two of them civilians who can handle a firearm but have never been tested in the field...”

“Excuse me,” Cheri interrupted, “what do you call protecting a store room full of people during that terrorist attack? Just because I didn't have to shoot anyone doesn't mean I couldn't have.”

“That doesn't change the fact that this isn't your job. There is no reason to endanger you.”

“Did you tell that to Sydney Fox when you dragged her off to find the Kinomata?” Cheri raised an eyebrow at him.

Derek raised his hand. “Do not bring up Sydney Fox.”

“Who's Sydney Fox?” Frannie asked curiously.

“I don't want to talk about Sydney Fox.”

“Of course you don't,” Cheri agreed. “You hate when anyone gets the best of you, and she's only done it, what, three times already.”

“That's enough about Sydney Fox.”

“Yes,” Meg said sternly, “can we get back to the point? I think we should have two members on the trucks, two on the house, and one on each building. Objections?”

“I think we should have one agent and the two civilians on the trucks and one agent on each of the three leftover points.”

“That would be spreading us rather thin, don't you think?”

“But it will keep Cheri and Emily safe.”

“Screw that,” Cheri said. “I can hold my own.”

“I don't want you getting hurt,” the Music Man protested.

“Then take me as your partner and we'll flush out the guys in the house and save those two women.”

“I don't know...”

“Me and Emily can take the guy with the trucks and get them ready to roll. You said that would be the safest one, and I'd be able to get a gun and protect them,” Frannie suggested.

“I can load people on trucks. It won't matter if I don't have a gun,” Emily agreed.

“I'll take the building with the women,” Meg put in. “With what they've been through, Derek would probably frighten them.”

“I don't know if I like this.” Derek frowned.

“We might not have a choice,” the Music Man said reluctantly. “Cheri and I will do our best to neutralize the guards in the house before you get the prisoners on the move.”

“You can send us a signal,” Meg suggested, “so we'll know when it's safe.”

“What kind of signal?”

“Something we'll notice too,” Frannie said, “so we can get the trucks started. We're going to want to move as fast as we can in case more people are coming or some of the guards get away.”

“I'll think of something,” Cheri told them. “You'll know it when you see it.”

“Okay..” Derek said slowly. “I guess this is what we're doing. If anyone runs into any trouble, let the rest of us know. I wish we had talkies or cells.”

“We'll manage,” Meg assured him. “We have to.”

“Then we're ready?”

“I am. Frannie?”

“Yeah, me too.”

“All right.” Grayson jumped to his feet. “Let's get to it.”

“And pray we live.” Derek got up more slowly, his expression dark. “Cheri, give your gun to the Godmother.”

“What?”

“Each group should have at least one weapon. How do you expect her to take her guard out, bash him in the head with a shovel?”

“Works in Nanowrimo.” 

“What?”

“Nothing.” She took out her gun and handed it to Frannie.

“Thanks.”

“No problem. Just have the truck ready when we come running.”

Frannie nodded.

“Okay, guys,” the Music Man said, “this is it. Let's get out there and free some prisoners.”

XXX

Frannie tried to walk more quietly the closer she got to Pas la Fin. She could tell Emily was doing the same, and she could almost feel the other woman trembling in either fear or excitement.

“It's going to be okay,” she said quietly. “We just have to overpower one man. How hard can it be?”

“Are you going to shoot him?”

“I'm afraid the noise will alert the other guards. If we do that too soon, it might be dangerous for the others.”

“But it could also draw the other guards towards us and make it easier for Meg and Derek to free the prisoners.”

“And for the guys in the house to come out and shoot us all.”

Emily frowned. “You're right. They won't be worried about prisoner safety and they'll shoot everyone, while we'll be trying not to hit innocents.”

“Right.”

Frannie didn't mention she'd rather not shoot the guard for another reason—she just didn't want to. She hated shooting people. She could do it when she had to, but she didn't think she'd ever actually want to.

Even though neither of them was very good at stealth, they managed to get close enough to watch the guard without him hearing them. He was leaning against one of the trucks with a rifle in his hand. It was a scary looking gun, and Frannie would be giving it to Emily—who knew how to use one—instead of keeping it for herself.

The man was relaxed and he stared blankly at one of the huge buildings filled with prisoners. He looked lost in thought. Frannie studied him, wondering how to neutralize him without resorting to a gun fight.

As she watched him, her mind went to Meg and the others. She glanced at the greenery around the camp but couldn't see any signs of movement. 

After several minutes of silence, an idea formed in Frannie's mind. She crooked her finger at Emily, who leaned in close.

“What is it?” Emily whispered.

“If you distract the guard, I might be able to disable him without using the gun.”

“Distract him how?”

“You can make a noise of some kind...What do you think?”

“It doesn't hurt to try.”

“Okay, I'll go over there a bit. Give me five minutes, then wrangle the trees or throw a rock or something.”

“Wrangle? Do you mean...?”

“You know, move them up and down.”

“Rustle?”

“Rustle, wrangle, corral, something like that.”

Emily smiled slightly. “Okay, Frannie. I can do that.”

“Be careful. Don't let him see you. I promised Derek and Grayson I'd keep you safe.”

She nodded. Frannie searched her face before giving her a nod of her own and slipping further into the foliage.

She didn't go too deep. It wouldn't do anyone any good if she got lost. Instead, she moved just out of sight of the village until she was slightly to the side of the guard. Frannie was concentrating on being quiet and didn't see the bump on the ground in front of her. She tripped over it and fell heavily, grunting as she landed. She lay there for a moment, stunned, wondering if she had hurt herself—or if she had been too noisy.

There were no cries of alarm, so she searched the ground around her and saw she had tripped over a humongous branch that was covered with leaves. It was thick and heavy. Frannie reached over and picked it up. She could feel the weight of it in her hand.

Deciding it might be useful, she hauled herself to her feet, leaning on the stick as she tested her limbs. They were bruised but all seemed to be in working order.

Suddenly, there was a loud noise, almost like a buffalo or an elephant crashing through the jungle. A grin spread over Frannie's face as she saw the guard rush towards the spot where Emily was hidden. Carefully, still carrying her branch, she hurried from the greenery towards the trucks. She could see the back of the guard as he searched. His gun was now at the ready, and she hoped he wouldn't shoot at Emily. If he did, Frannie would have no choice but to shoot him, and the village would erupt.

To her relief, he held his fire.

She sidled up beside the truck where the guard couldn't see her and continued to watch him. He peered into the jungle, tense.

Eventually, as no more noise came, he relaxed. His hands dropped, and he came back over to the truck Frannie was hiding behind. Quietly, she snuck around it. She kept her side plastered to it; the metal was warm against her skin.

Frannie got close enough that she could have reached out to touch him. He didn't notice her. His eyes were still searching the jungle ahead. Lifting her branch, she took a deep breath. This the guard heard, but it was too late. He was whirling just as Frannie's branch whacked against the side of his head. He stumbled, so she whacked him again, harder. With a soft groan, he collapsed to the ground. 

She leaned over him to make sure he was unconscious. There was no movement except for the rise and fall of his chest. Pleased, she waved towards the jungle, and Emily appeared, her face flushed.

Frannie searched the man's pockets and found his wallet. She stuck this in her jeans and handed his rifle to Emily. Her flush paled, but she accepted the gun without comment.

They looked through the trucks, searching for something to tie the guard up with. Grayson had said he needed a member of La Terreur alive, and Frannie planned on giving that to him.

She discovered that the keys had been left in all the trucks, which would make their escape so much easier. She also found some rope in the back of one of them. She didn't question her good fortune. That would have taken too much time. Instead, she tied his hands while Emily wordlessly tied his feet.

When he was secure, showing no signs of waking, Frannie and Emily dragged him into the passenger seat of one of the trucks. It was difficult and awkward but, in the end, they managed to get him in there.

“Now what?” Emily asked quietly.

“Now, we wait.”

XXX

Cheri carefully tried to copy her brother's silent way of moving as they made their way through the tiny village. It was all so quiet that she was afraid any kind of noise would carry to the terrorists' waiting ears.

There were lots of things to hide behind. Derelict buildings, wheelbarrows, clotheslines. Not that there was really anyone to see them.

Cheri was nervous without her gun. She wasn't as used to this spy stuff as her brother. Even though she could defend herself if she had to, she wasn't a trained agent.

Grayson walked up to the house and flattened himself to the side. Cheri stayed a little further back and let him do what he needed to do. There was a shovel in the dirt at her feet, so she picked it up. Immediately, she felt a bit more secure. A shovel wouldn't do much to stop bullets, but it could give a head a good clonking when needed.

Grayson peeked through the window and quickly ducked. He held up three fingers for her, and she nodded. If three of them were in that room, where were the other two?

He moved around the corner of the building, waving at Cheri to follow him. She held her shovel a little more firmly and pressed to the wall beside him.

Her brother eyed the shovel but didn't say a word. Instead, he just peered into the next window. There must not have been anyone in the room because he started sliding up the pane. It didn't take Gray long to get the window open wide enough for someone to squeeze through. It squeaked a little, but the noise coming from inside the building masked it.

Grayson was long and thin, so he had no problems slipping through the small opening. Cheri sighed when it was her turn. This was the second time in as many days that she had to force her bulky—but highly attractive, of course-- body through a window. She hadn't known field work could include so much sneaking and crawling.

The window was a tight fit, but she was able to wiggle and work her way through. Grayson had his hands on her shoulders and helped. Once through, she retrieved her shovel, which she had leaned against the side of the house. It made a ding as it hit the windowsill, and she frowned.

Gray put his finger to his lips and crossed the small bedroom. The bed was rumpled, and there was dirty clothes on the floor. Cheri followed him cautiously. The men's voices were very clear, and there was a clanking mixed in. She didn't hear any women's voices, but that probably meant that they were too frightened to talk. There was laughter, too. It was harsh and grated on Cherie's taut nerves. 

“Gray?” she whispered.

“We're going to have to surprise them somehow,” he whispered back. “Since I only saw three men in the kitchen, I'm worried about where the other two are...or if there are more of them.”

“What are we going to do?” She tightened her grip on her shovel.

“I'm going to search the rest of the house. You wait here with the door closed. If anyone but me or the girls come in, bash them with your shovel and run.”

“Will you be all right?” She didn't want to lose him again.

“This is what I'm trained for. Now just sit tight.”

“I don't know, Gray. There are at least five armed men out there.”

“And you have nothing but a shovel. Stay here, Cheri. You'll know if I need you.”

She nodded. “Be careful..”

“I will.”

He opened the door slowly and slipped into the hallway. Cheri pressed her eye to the crack and watched him walk silently down the hallway. Her brother was like a ghost, she thought, impressed. Somewhere in the back of her mind, he was still a clumsy ten year old with bandaged elbows and knees and a black eye. He'd gone and grown up on her somehow. Her mind had known it, but it was the first time her heart really noticed. 

When he moved out of sight, Cheri quietly closed the door the rest of the way. Her chest felt tight, and it was hard to breathe. What was she doing here? She wasn't an action hero. She'd never wanted to be an action hero. All she'd ever wanted was to be someone her brother could depend on.

And she would be. Whether she wielded a pen or a gun...or even a shovel...she would protect her brother to her dying breath.

A shot rang out, followed by several more. Cheri stiffened as she was grabbed by fear. The men in the direction of the kitchen started shouting, and their feet pounded down the hallway.

Cherie quickly pulled open the door and swung her shovel as hard as she could at knee height. She wasn't thinking about guns. All she could think was that she couldn't let them get to Grayson.

She felt something give as her wild swing caught a soldier in the knee cap. He let out a startled scream and fell to the floor. The man directly behind him tripped over him, tumbling forward. The third man stopped and quickly raised his gun. Cheri's mouth dropped open in expectation. She'd never be able to swing her shovel faster than he could shoot, so she was a dead woman. She just hoped Grayson would be able to get away.

Suddenly, there was another scream, this one female. A woman hurtled through the air and smashed into the guard. He fired as he fell, but the bullet went wide, missing Cheri.

Pushing away shock, she swung again, this time at the head of the soldier who had tripped over her first victim because he was now rising. It hit with a solid thunk, and he collapsed on top of the man with the broken knee.

The woman prisoner was still tangled with the man she'd pushed over. He was trying to get his gun into position, so Cheri started beating at his hand with her shovel. She kept hitting him until he dropped his gun and she rushed to pick it up.

“I don't want to shoot you, but I will.”

Would she? Could she? The thought scared her more than anything that had happened so far.

He shoved the prisoner aside and lurched to his feet. Cheri saw the man with the broken knee reaching for his gun. She wasn't sure what to do.

A gun fired. At first Cheri was afraid she'd been shot until she saw the blood pooling from the man who had been reaching for his gun. She noticed this almost absently because the unarmed man lunged at her.

Instinct not thought made her pull the trigger. The man crumpled before he reached her, and a stain spread across his chest.

The woman who had saved her took this moment to start screaming. Another woman ran from the direction of the kitchen and grabbed her. 

Cheri was still looking at the man she had shot. She continued to stare at him as Grayson came up to her and gently took her gun.

“Come on, Cheri,” he said gently. “It's over.”

“What about...what about the signal?” Her voice sounded hollow and far away.

“I don't think we'll need it.”

XXX

Meg silently watched over her assigned guard. He stood stiffly in front of the building holding the women and children. His hand gripped his gun and his face was as still as stone. His standing motionless skills were impressive, but she'd seen better. It was obvious he'd never been a Mountie.

She knew nearby Derek was similarly watching the guard from the other building. The guards were close enough to see each other but too far away to talk without shouting. Because of this, Meg and Derek had separated. She couldn't see him, but she could feel him out there waiting.

From where she was, she couldn't see the trucks, so she had no idea how Frannie and Emily were doing. The house La Terreur had taken over was visible, but Meg couldn't tell what was going on inside. Still, she kept glancing at it so she wouldn't miss Cherie's signal.

The sound of a gun firing startled her. It was followed quickly by several more shots. Immediately, Meg was hauling her gun out of her waistband and trying to figure out where the noise was coming from.

Both the guard she was watching and Derek's guard went on alert. They stiffened and started running towards the house. Derek ran out of the jungle and fired his gun. He hit his guard in the back, and the man flopped to the ground like a doll. It happened so quickly that the man had collapsed before Meg was even in motion. Say what you wanted about Lloyd, the man was fast. With no other choice, Meg burst out of her cover, shooting her gun. She hit her guard in the back of the head. Her stomach churned, and she winced.

“Let's get the prisoners!” Derek called to her.

She waved to him and ran to the barn. She could hear panicked yelling and crying children before she even got the lock off the door. When the door opened, she found a roomful of frightened faces.

“Hello,” she said calmly. “I'm Janet Scott. I've come to rescue you and bring you back to the city. Come with me.”

A slim woman with her arm around a little boy asked, “How do we know we can trust you?”

“Can you afford not to?” She beckoned them forward. “Don't worry about the guards. They've been taken care of.”

The women followed her out into the sunshine, blinking rapidly.

The door to the other barn was open but Meg couldn't see any activity there yet.

Another shot came from the house, but Meg ignored it. Instead of reacting, she said to the women, “Come on, hurry. This way. Keep the children close. There's not much time.”

She herded them towards where Emily and Frannie were waiting. It wasn't long before the men joined them. When Frannie came into sight, she was waving frantically. Meg calmly waved back and told the women, “Head for the trucks.”

The four trucks were barely enough for all the prisoners. They were still getting them into the backs when Cheri and Grayson arrived with the two women from inside the house.

“The guards?” Meg asked.

“All dead,” the Music Man said grimly.

“Ours too.”

“Me and Emily just knocked ours out,” Frannie offered. “He's in this truck.”

“Then that's the one I'm driving.”

It seemed to take forever to get everyone loaded. As soon as they did, the rescuers hopped into the trucks and headed for Paradis de Mer.


	14. Chapter 14

The ride back to the city was pretty quiet, and they didn't run into any other vehicles on the rough track out of the village.

Meg drove the second truck. Sandwiched between Derek's and Frannie's, she drove slowly so she wouldn't jar her passengers too much. Cheri sat beside her in the front, uncharacteristically silent. Meg remembered her first time, as a very young officer, that she'd been forced to shoot someone. Despite everything that had happened since, she still had nightmares about it. Cheri would start talking again on her own time, when she was able to begin processing what she had done.

Meg wondered what they were going to do with the people they had rescued once they returned to Paradis de Mer. The prisoners were from all over the world, including Marda itself, so they couldn't drop them at an embassy or anything. They were probably going to have to bring them to the authorities, which would cause lots of questions. Did they have a contact in the city police? She certainly didn't, but the Music Man had been in the city for years.

“I killed two men,” Cheri said quietly.

She had been so unresponsive that Meg hadn't expected her to speak until they got back to the city.

Meg glanced at her. “Are you all right?”

“I've never killed anyone before. I don't think I like it.”

“You're not supposed to like it. If you do, then there's a problem.”

“How many people have you killed, Meg?”

She didn't like to think about that. “More than I'm comfortable with.”

“Does it get easier?”

“Yes...and no.”

“I was thinking about going for ops training...”

“And now?”

“I don't know. I'm not sure I could do this all the time.”

“Let me ask you something.”

“Okay.”

“What was your first reaction?”

Cheri frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I mean when those men came at you and you knew you'd have to fight or run, what was your first thought?”

“I knew I had to save Grayson.”

“Okay.” Meg nodded. “When did you panic? When did the situation overwhelm you? Was it during the fight or after?”

“After, I guess.”

“I think you should do whatever you want to do. If becoming an agent is it, you should go for it. How you handle these kinds of situations says a lot about you. What you went through today proves that you have what it takes.”

“I'm going to have to really think about it.”

“As well you should. This is not the sort of decision you should make lightly.”

Cheri was silent for a few minutes before she asked, “Meg?”

“Yes?”

“Why did you become an agent?”

Meg studied Cheri's face for as long as she dared before turning her eyes back to the road. For some reason, she found this tough and abrasive woman easy to talk to. “Mostly because I wanted to make a difference. I felt rather, well, rather trapped, I suppose, and the offer was almost like a breath of fresh air. It made me wake up after a long dormancy.”

“Is it what you thought it would be?”

“Of course not. It's worse...” She thought of Fraser and smiled. “It's better.”

“I actually think I understand that.”

“Good. How are our passengers?”

Cheri glanced in the back. “They look okay...for people who've been through hell over the past two days.”

“We're coming up to the main road here. The next part of the trip shouldn't be quite as jarring for them.”

It was dark by the time they got to Paradis de Mer. Cheri was napping and Meg's eyes were tired from staring at Derek's lights for three hours. Because of their live passengers, it had taken a lot longer to drive back to the city.

Meg was startled when Derek suddenly stopped and pulled over. She almost rammed into the back of his truck. Frowning, she slowed and pulled up behind him.

“What is it?” she asked when he came back and tapped on her window.

“The militia headquarters are just a few blocks from here. We need to bring these people there, but we don't want to be seen driving these rebel trucks through the streets. There's too much danger of getting shot.”

“Okay. So, we're just going to leave the trucks here?”

“Yeah. The militia can do with them what they want. Since Frannie and Emily were captured, I think they should come with me to tell the militia what happened. The Music Man wants to interrogate his guy, so we probably won't see him again tonight.”

“What about us?” Cheri asked, sitting up. “And what about the SUV?”

“You two go back to the hotel...”

“Are you dismissing us?” Meg asked angrily.

“You should contact your boss. He needs to know what happened here. We'll figure out who goes back for the SUV tomorrow.”

“Are you going to let him talk to you like that?” Cheri demanded.

Meg shrugged. “It's a man thing. If he wants to be an alpha jerk, power to him. I'm above reminding him that it's my mission he's steamrolling over.”

“You didn't seem to mind my steamrolling earlier,” he told her.

Meg ignored him. “Come on, Cheri. It seems as if the big, bad, male agent no longer has need of us.”

“Hmph,” Cheri said and opened her door.

“Man, you're touchy,” Derek said. “What is your problem?”

Meg blinked at him, realizing that being overtired had made her irritable. “I don't have one. See you at the hotel.”

XXX

The hotel was eerily quiet when Meg and Cheri stepped inside. The person at the desk—a young woman in white that Meg didn't recognize—looked up but didn't say anything.

Meg knew they must look terrible after a day of trekking through the jungle and fighting bad guys. Even so, she supposed the hotel staff had seen much worse in the past couple of days.

Cheri got off on her floor for a shower, and Meg continued up to her own suite to do the same. First, though, she had to call Layton and fill him in on what happened. If he said it was okay, she was also going to book flights out of Marda for her and Frannie. Between, though, she had to have a shower. She was tired and sticky...and hungry too, but food could wait. Getting clean was her priority.

Yawning, Meg unlocked her door and stumbled inside. She turned on the light and headed for the couch. As she reached for the phone on the small end table, she thought she heard a noise coming from one of the bedrooms.

Frowning, she freed her gun from the back of her jeans and quietly moved towards the small hallway on the other end of the room.

The first room was Frannie's. Meg's hand tightened on her gun as she walked in cautiously. It was dark, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary. With her free hand, she reached for the light switch. 

Suddenly, there was the feel of cold metal against her temple and a voice hissing in her ear. “Who are you?”

“Shouldn't that be my question?” Meg asked calmly.

“Funny, music girl.” The voice was low but feminine. “Now drop your gun or I'll spray your brains all over the wall.”

When Meg didn't comply right away, the gun at her temple stabbed painfully into her skin.

“Now,” the woman behind her demanded.

Not having another option, Meg bent and placed her gun on the rug. Slowly, she stood back up, her mind working on a way to get away.

“Good. Now, you're going to tell me who you are and what you're doing here at the Paradise Hotel.”

“I'm Janet Scott. I'm just the lounge singer.”

“I highly doubt that. I know what you did yesterday, how you killed all those rebel soldiers.”

“I don't know what you're talking about.”

“Of course you do. Now we're going to slowly go out to the kitchen table. I'm going to tie you into one of those chairs, and you're going to tell me what I want to know.”

“There's nothing to tell,” Meg insisted.

“That answer's not good enough.'

A small but strong arm wrapped around Meg's middle, right under her breasts. The gun once more dug into Meg's skin as her captor turned her and forced her towards the dining area. Meg went slowly, searching for opportunities to escape, but her captor didn't give her any. She had no choice but to let herself be forced into one of the chairs.

When Meg sat down, she got her first look at the person with the gun. The woman was small, certainly not even five feet, and thin but wiry. Curly dark hair was done up in a no-nonsense ponytail. Even her freckles couldn't soften the cold expression on her face. Meg had never met her, but she was pretty sure this was Mary, the assassin turned bartender.

Mary reached into one of her pockets and drew out a set of handcuffs. Meg took advantage of Mary's moment of inattention to swing her fist at Mary's wrist. It hit hard enough that Mary's fingers opened and the gun flew out of her hand. Meg quickly followed the blow with another. This one was a punch aimed at Mary's face. Mary ducked out of the way, and Meg's knuckles just barely brushed her cheek.

Mary retaliated with her own punch, which hit Meg hard in the stomach. Meg folded and gasped for breath. She lurched sideways, avoiding Mary's follow up attempt to her face, and then fell forward, catching Mary's body in the chest.

The two of the stumbled backwards, and the arm of the couch hit the back of Mary's legs. She fell, taking Meg with her. They rolled once and heavily fell off of the couch cushions and sideways onto the floor. Mary was snarling, but Meg was just trying to hold her own. For someone so small, Mary was strong.

Meg's back hit the coffee table, and she grunted with pain. She held on to Mary so the assassin couldn't break free and was rewarded with a sharp kick to her shin.

Suddenly, Meg saw stars as Mary's forehead smacked into hers. Her grip loosened as Mary did it again.

"You're crazy," Meg gasped out as Mary twisted away.

The assassin grabbed the couch and tried to haul herself up. Because she was wedged between Meg and the couch, and Meg was wedged between her and the coffee table, she was left floundering.

Meg pulled at Mary's clothes until Mary fell backwards onto the coffee table. Mary let out a grunt and planted her knee in Meg's stomach. All of the air rushed out of Meg's body, and little gray spots danced in her vision.

Using Meg's body for leverage, Mary pushed herself to her feet and crawled over the coffee table. Meg knew she was headed for the gun.  
Even though it hurt, Meg forced herself up, but she was too slow. By the time she got to her feet, Mary was bending down for her gun. She lifted it in one fluid motion, and there was nothing between it and Meg.

"I don't need you in one piece to get answers out of you," Mary spat. "Maybe you'll be a little more cooperative with a hole in your arm...or maybe your leg."

Meg winced. Not again. She had just recovered from a bullet wound in her shoulder. She really hated being shot.

The door burst open and a shot rang out. Mary crumpled to the floor.

Meg's mouth dropped open, and it took her a second to comprehend what had happened. A pale-faced Frannie was standing in the doorway, Cheri's gun in her hand. She looked almost as shocked as Meg felt.

"What are you doing here?" Meg managed to force out. It sounded accusatory, so she softened it with, "I thought you were with Derek." 

“I didn't want you to have to contact Layton without me,” she said slowly, her eyes never leaving Mary. “I told Derek if the authorities needed me, they could find me here...What happened?”

“She was here waiting for me.” Able to move again, Meg rushed over to kneel beside Mary.

“Is she...?”

Meg checked her vitals. “Not yet, but I don't think she'll survive long. People must have heard your shot. We should call the front desk and let them know there was an intruder in our room and get them to call an ambulance.”

“What was she doing here?”

Meg grimaced. “My actions yesterday. Somehow she head about them and was sent to find out who I really was. Hurry up and call the desk, Frannie. I don't think she has much time.”

“What about Derek? Should we tell him what happened?”

“There's no way to get a hold of him. That'll have to wait until he gets back.”

“What if I get arrested?”

“As soon as you're done talking to the desk, I'm calling Layton.”

Frannie nodded and hurried over to the phone. Meg stayed on the floor beside Mary. The assassin's breathing got more and more shallow until it eventually stopped.

“How is she?” Frannie asked shakily as she hung up the phone.

“Gone.”

“She's dead?”

“There's nothing I can do for her.” Meg tiredly got to her feet. “Thank you for saving my life.”

Surprise came to her features. “I did save your life, didn't I?”

Me smiled slightly. “Yes.”

“Usually, it's you saving me.”

“I don't know about that, Frannie. I seem to remember a woman who carried me away from a battle zone because she was too stubborn to leave me behind.”

The sound of running feet interrupted their conversation and three members of hotel security and an older man with a stethoscope around his neck and a black bag in his hand came running in.

“What happened here?” a burly man with a thick neck demanded.

“When we got back to our room, this woman was waiting here with a gun.”

Mary's gun was still gripped in her hand, proving Meg's point. 

“My roommate was able to get the gun she keeps for protection. When...Mary, I think it's Mary...saw her gun, she was going to shoot us, but Steph fired first. Is she...?”

“Dead,” the doctor confirmed what Meg already knew.

The three security guards knelt down and studied the gun in Mary's hand. 

“The authorities will have to be called. You will need to speak with them, but this was obviously self-defense,” the burly man said. He frowned. “What was Mary doing threatening anyone? She was the bartender.”

“I don't know,” Meg answered. “She was saying crazy things and waving her gun around. It was terrifying.”

“Who are you anyway? The two of you don't look familiar.”

“I'm Janet Scott. I'm supposed to replace Michelle in the lounge. This is my cousin, Stephanie.”

“I work in the lounge too. I'm a waitress,” Frannie said then added. “I only met Mary once...I don't understand.”

Her voice shook a little, and Meg was sure this lent credence to their story.

“You'll have to stay here until the authorities arrive,” he told them.

“With...her?” Frannie asked.

“Yes, I'm sorry. You can go in another room, if you want.

“Can we call my father?” Meg asked. “I'm afraid he heard about what happened yesterday on the news and is worried about me. I haven't been able to reach him all day.”

“Of course. Until we're told otherwise, we're treating this as an act of self-defense.”

“Thank you.”

Meg took Frannie by the arm and drew her towards her bedroom. Once inside, she closed the door.

“What now?” Frannie asked.

“We call Layton.”

XXX

Meg was still talking to Layton when the authorities arrived. She'd told their boss everything, and he agreed that their mission had come to its natural conclusion. Since the Music Man was still alive, they wouldn't have to worry about taking over for him. When Meg heard a familiar voice in the living area, she said a hasty good bye and hurried out, Frannie behind her.

The authorities had arrived, and Derek Lloyd was with them. While Meg watched, they did a cursory inspection of Mary's body and then left with it. Not one word was said to Meg or Frannie.

“What's going on?” Meg asked Lloyd as soon as it was just the three of them. 

“The police and I have...an understanding.”

“What kind of understanding?”

He waved this away. “It doesn't matter.”

“Are you ever going to give me a straight answer about anything?”

“All you need to know is that it's taken care of.”

“Fine.” Meg rolled her eyes. “Frannie and I are done with this crazy mess anyway.”

“What do you mean?”

“Layton wants us to come home. There's nothing more we can do here. Our mission was to find the Music Man, and we have.”

“Makes sense. When are you leaving?”

“I haven't booked our flight yet. I'm going to do that in the morning, after I talk to Madame Russo.”

“Who?”

“Our other boss,” Frannie supplied. “We have to think of an excuse to quit.”

“A gun fight in the middle of the hotel isn't a good enough reason?” He raised his eyebrows.

Frannie ignored this and asked, “Where's Emily? Did you leave her at police headquarters?”

“No. She went to her hotel to see if her sister's all right. Where's Cheri?”

“Having a shower,” Meg said, feeling a pang of envy.

“That's actually a good plan. If they haven't chucked out my stuff and rented my room, I think I'll do the same.”

“What hotel is Emily staying at?” Frannie asked. “I'd like to say good bye.”

“She told me she'd be over in the morning to see you. I think we should have a meeting here before we go our separate ways,” Derek replied.

“Even Grayson?”

“He's supposed to check in before he continues.”

“What time is this magical meeting?” Meg asked tiredly.

“Around ten, if that's okay. Emily set the time and I didn't see anything wrong with it.”

“I supposed I should tell Cheri.”

He smiled. “Nah. I got it. Have a shower and get something to eat.”

That sounded like a good plan to Meg.

XXX

“You were worried for nothing,” Frannie told Meg the next morning.

“What do you mean?”

“Here you were all nervous about singing in front of people and you don't even have to.”

“I was just starting to get used to the idea.”

“Did you figure out what you were going to sing?”

“It doesn't matter now. I just want to say good bye to Marda and go home. If I'm lucky, our mandatory rest period will be long enough to take a short trip down to Chicago.”

“Fraser?” Frannie looked amused.

“No, I just miss the art museum.”

Frannie laughed. “Yeah. Me too. Let's get packing. What time is it?”

Meg looked at her watch. “Almost ten. The others should be here any minute. I hope Emily's sister was all right.”

“She's gut a lot of guts, Meg. I like her. I think she'd make a great agent.”

“Cheri's thinking about becoming one,” Meg commented as she went to get some orange juice.

“It was weird how you just ran into her. When is our flight, anyway?”

“I couldn't get anything before the day after tomorrow.”

“What are we going to do until then?”

Meg shrugged. “I think we should keep a low profile. We might even stay out of trouble that way.”

“Do you think Grayson was able to find the information he needed?”

“I don't even want to think about it. For the next two days, I just want to be Janet Scott, almost lounge singer. If we're lucky, after today, we'll never have to see Derek Lloyd or Grayson Daniels again.”

“I kind of like Derek and Grayson,” Frannie admitted.

“I do too...at times.”

There was a loud knock on the door before it opened and Cheri came bursting through. She looked different with her hair done up and some subtle makeup that accentuated her pretty features. Her clothes, a simple shirt and skirt, complimented her curvy form.

“Hello, ladies,” she announced cheerfully.

“Good morning,” Meg answered, unable to keep a smile from her face.

“Am I the first one here?”

“Yup,” Frannie told her. “We were just going to make a snack. Do you like fruit salad?”

“Correction,” Meg added. “Frannie was about to make a fruit salad. I was about to watch her culinary skills with wonder.”

Frannie chuckled. “Meg's not much of a kitchen person.”

“On the contrary, I love to eat. It's the preparation part I'm not too fond of.”

“Well, I'll help you, Frannie.” Cheri offered. “What do you want me to do?” 

While Frannie and Cheri started to chop fruit, Meg went to answer the door. Emily was on the other side, looking angelic in a simple sundress.

“Emily!” Frannie looked over. “How is your sister? Is she okay?”

Emily nodded. “She's fine. She stayed in her room during the crisis and didn't even see a rebel.”

“That's great!”

“I was so relieved.”

“How did things go with the police?”

She frowned. “It was okay.” 

“I'm sorry I didn't stay with you.”

“That's all right. It wasn't anything I couldn't handle.”

“Of course not,” Meg said and led her to the table. “You are a highly capable woman.”

Emily gave her a soft smile. “Thanks.”

“No need to thank me. Have a seat.”

She did, asking, “Has anyone heard from Grayson? Is he okay?”

“Not yet, but I'm sure Derek would have told us if he had disappeared again.”

The salad was all ready and on the table before the men arrived. Meg was just starting to worry when they showed up together. They were talking as they came in without even knocking.

“Gentlemen,” Meg said with mock politeness, “we're so glad that you could join us.”

“Are we late?” the Music Man asked.

“Just a few minutes,” his sister assured him, going over to search his face. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, I'm fine, Cheri. I always was.”

“Were you able to find the answers you needed?” Meg asked, forcing herself not to ask if he had killed his captive afterward.

“Some of them. I still don't know who the leader is, but I'm a lot closer to finding out. This time next week, I should be home relaxing.”

“With Beverly?” Cheri asked.

He looked startled. “No. That's been over for awhile.”

“Is she pregnant?”

“Not that I know of.”

“Who's Beverly?” Emily asked, looking puzzled.

Grayson waved this away. “My ex-girlfriend. She's a bit of a nut...Is that fruit salad? I'm starving.”

He grabbed a bowl and started spooning generous amounts into it before taking the empty chair between Meg and Emily, which left both Cheri and Derek without chairs.

Derek had watched the exchange silently. He was still silent as he spooned himself some fruit.

“Whipped cream?” Meg asked him.

His eyes twinkled and wandered over Meg for an instant. “Yes, please.”

“You are sick, Lloyd. Do I really have to spray this in your face?”

He just looked amused as he gingerly took the can from her hand. He put so much whipped cream on top of his fruit salad that the fruit actually disappeared. Meg watched in amazement as the tower grew taller.

Finally stopping and placing the can on the table, he asked, “So, how much longer are you girls gonna be in Marda?”

“Girls?” Meg raised an eyebrow.

He sighed. “Women. I said women.”

“I thought so. Our plane doesn't leave until the day after tomorrow.”

“I've got a flight out tonight,” Emily added.

Derek took a bite of whipped cream and looked expectantly at Cheri.

“I haven't even called yet. I thought I might spend some time with Grayson before I go back.”

“You do know I'm on a mission, right?” the Music Man asked.

“I won't get in the way.”

“Like you've been so good at staying out of things so far.”

“That was unfair.” Meg tapped his hand with her spoon.

“Yeah, leave her alone,” Frannie agreed.

“This has been quite an adventure,” Emily said softly. “I almost enjoyed it...when I wasn't terrified.”

“Even with the dead bodies?”

Her smile fell away. “Not so much that part.”

“Hey, I'm sorry I brought that up.”

“It's okay. They were all bad guys, right?”

“I don't think any of them had altruistic motives towards us,” Meg agreed.

“You did okay for a civilian,” Grayson commented, taking another bite.

“All I did was cause the distraction,” she said, not quite looking at him.

“And you escaped with me from the guards,” Frannie told her. Then her face paled and she dropped her spoon. “Candace!”

“It's all right,” Derek assured her. “The Music Man and I went to get her and Cheri's SUV this morning. That's why we were late.” 

“How is she?”

“Scared but okay.”

“I can't believe I forgot about her.”

“There was a lot going on.”

“Hmn,” Meg said, licking her spoon. “We need to feed Derek whipped cream more often. It makes him almost sweet.”

Emily giggled before covering her mouth with her hand. Derek gave her a hard look before softening it with a smirk and a wink. This made Cheri laugh, and before long they were all laughing. It felt good to laugh, and Meg put her heart and soul into it. She felt tension ease she didn't even know she was feeling.

“You know,” Cheri said when the laughter died some, “I like you guys. I think we should trade addresses and phone numbers so we can stay in touch.”

Frannie sat up straight. “That's a great idea.”

“Us men too?” Derek asked.

“Sure, why not?”

“I'm invisible.”

Meg had been getting up to get pens and paper, but stopped. “What?”

“I don't exist. The only way you can contact me is through the Agency.”

She shrugged. “Then write down that information, if you wish. Grayson, I assume we contact you through Cheri until you get home.”

“That's fine, but why would you want to contact me?”

“Because we might actually like you,” Emily said crossly.

Cheri smacked her brother in the back of the head. “Don't be so hard to get along with. Send these women a postcard or something.”

“All right. Geesh.”

“Children, please,” Meg said in her most authoritative voice. “Play nice.”

There was another round of laughter, and they ate the rest of their fruit salad while exchanging addresses and phone numbers. Though Meg hadn't requested it, she was pretty sure she'd still be writing to Emily and Cheri. The men, she wasn't sure about.

After they were done, everyone got up to go. Emily had to get ready to catch her flight and Cheri was planning on spending a little time with Grayson before he continued his mission. Derek, as always, was close mouthed about his plans.

Derek said a quick,” See ya,” before disappearing into the hallway.

Meg shook her head slightly, still not sure whether she liked him or not.

“Well, I'd better go too,” Emily said quietly. “I'll never forget any of you. Thank you for helping me escape and for trusting me enough to let me help free the others. I needed to be reminded that I can do anything if I set my mind to it.”

She pulled them all into a hug, one by one.

“Thanks for your help,” Meg told her as she hugged back.

“You'll all be hearing from me.” She smiled as she opened the door. “Even you, Mr. Grumpy Pants.”

She gave Grayson a little wink but ruined the effect by blushing.

“Bye, guys,” she continued.

Once she was gone, Cheri said, “So, do you guys want to come with us today or what?”

“No. You spend some time with your brother. When he wanders off, come back and we'll have some drinks or something,” Meg told her. She wasn't much of a drinker but after the couple of days she'd had, she wouldn't mind a couple...or a dozen.

“Okay, but you know I'm going to take you up on that. Right?”

“I was counting on it.”

XXX

Emily was still feeling slightly embarrassed for winking at Grayson when she walked into her hotel lobby. It had just sort of happened. Grayson got on her nerves, but she still kind of liked him. When he wasn't snapping or frowning at her, he was rather good looking, and he seemed to really love his sister.

Thinking about Grayson led to her thinking about all that had happened over the past few days. There had been so much fear, but she had been angry too. Emily had never been the type to lie down and take something. She was grateful for that part of herself because it had freed her from the unthinkable...and even helped others escape as well. It was crazy that she had been caught up in something that involved spies...and Cheri. She couldn't forget Cheri. Thinking of the tiny firecracker made Emily smile.

She was still smiling as she got off the elevator and walked towards the room she shared with her sister. She looked in her purse, searching for her electronic key. 

Suddenly, hands grabbed her, and she was yanked against a solid body. A calloused hand went over her mouth. Emily tried to scream, but the hand was so tight, there was no sound. She tried to struggle, but whoever held her was muscular and strong.

“Calm yourself, little girl. Stop struggling and I will not hurt you.” The voice was deep and strongly accented. A frightened shiver went down Emily's spine, but she refused to release the whimper that gathered in her throat.

She was considering trying to see if she could bend her leg back to get a kick between her captor's legs when she felt a sudden prick against the skin of her arm. She was suddenly light headed and the room began to spin. Her last thought as darkness claimed her was that she might never wake up.


	15. Chapter 15

“Home sweet home,” Meg thought as she got out of the elevator and tiredly trudged towards her apartment. Even though it had been less than a week since she'd left Toronto, it felt as if she'd been gone for months. All she wanted was to have a long, hot soak in her own tub and crawl into her own bed. She didn't even care that it was two in the afternoon.

Meg shifted her pack on her shoulder as she unlocked the door. She could already feel the hot water soaking the strangeness of Marda away.

All thoughts of rest flew out of her head as she got her first look at her apartment. Her mouth dropped open in shock as she absorbed the fact that the place was a mess. Someone had tossed it, scattering her possessions like a cranky child's discarded toys. 

She dropped her bags and quickly fished the gun out of her purse. The scene was eerily familiar as she started searching her apartment room by room. She didn't relax until she had searched the whole place and it was evident that whoever had been there was gone.

The final room on her journey through the apartment was her kitchen. It was the neatest of all the rooms. Apparently, her “visitors” hadn't thought information would be found behind her dishes. There was, however, one thing in the room that the intruders had left behind.

On the sideboard, there was a plain piece of paper. Meg went up to it slowly, almost fearing it. There was a picture attached to the paper and, when she saw it, Meg let out a cry and snatched it up.

It was a picture of Fraser. He was tied to a chair and slumped over, but Meg couldn't tell if he was unconscious or just in pain. There was a cut on his cheek and a bruise on his forehead. Seeing him like that tightened Meg's chest so much that she could hardly breath. Her brain began to scream and she struggled to make it calm enough to think rational thoughts.

With shaking hands, she slowly read the note.

“We have Fraser. If you want him, come get him. Bring twenty-five thousand dollars.”

There was an address at the bottom, but it hadn't been signed.

Meg had to sit down. The shaking in her hands traveled down through her body. Her legs trembled so badly that she knew she'd fall if she didn't find a chair. She stumbled out of the room and to the table. Falling heavily into her chair, she stared at the picture in her hands.

She was still sitting there when the phone rang. At first, her brain didn't even process the noise. It was vague and dreamlike. When it finally penetrated her consciousness, she got up and jerkily went over to answer it.

“Hello?”

“Meg is that you?”

“Frannie?”

“Meg, this is horrible. I don't know what to do!”

Meg snapped back to reality, hardening both her mind and her heart. “Was your apartment trashed?”

“Yes. How did you know?”

“It happened to me too. Did they take anything?

Frannie's voice was calming. “Not that I can see, but my stuff's everywhere. Should we call the police?”

“No.”

“What should we do?”

“Listen, Frannie,” Meg asked, sitting down, “did you find anything...out of the ordinary?”

“What do you mean?”

“A note of any kind?”

“No, nothing like that.”

“Have you been over your whole apartment? Have you checked the kitchen?”

“I'm at the kitchen table now. Why? Meg, what did you find?”

“Nothing. It was nothing.”

“I'm coming over right now.”

“No, you don't have to...”

The line went dead and Meg sighed. She had been planning to go and get Fraser by herself—and there was no way she'd be bringing twenty-five thousand dollars. She was going to rescue him or die trying. The knowledge that Frannie would be there to help eased the tightness in her body somewhat, and she was grateful for her partner's call.

Meg kept herself busy while she waited for Frannie by trying to put her apartment to rights. It was a futile effort because her heart wasn't really in it. She found herself picking stuff up and putting it right back down. All she could think about was Fraser. If she lost him, it would devastate her.

Frannie didn't even knock when she got there. She just hurried inside, her expression a complicated mixture of fear and determination.

“What was this about a note?” she demanded without even pausing for a greeting.

Meg went to the table and picked up the note. Wordlessly, she held it out to Frannie. Her partner took it with a puzzled frown. Meg watched as first shock and then anger went over Frannie's face. In her own way, Frannie cared for Fraser as much as Meg did.

“Who could have done this?”

“I don't know. The only one I could think of is Mario, but I'm not exactly thinking clearly right now.”

“Then you've got to get your head back on. We can't go save him if your brain is screwy. Maybe it has something to do what happened in Marda.”

“Do you think so?”

“We probably pissed off a bunch of people. Maybe we should talk to Grayson.”

“He's incommunicado, remember?”

“Cheri might know how to get a hold of him. I think she's still at the Paradise.”

Meg waved a hand. “We're just wasting time. It doesn't matter who has him. All that matters is getting him out of there alive.”

“So, what do we do?”

“Are you sure you want to do this?”

“You're my partner.” 

The simplicity of the words touched Meg, and she turned away. Not looking at Frannie, she said, “What else can we do but go there and get him? If we're lucky, none of us will get killed.”

“That's not much of a plan.”

“No,” Meg admitted, “but it's all I've got.”

XXX

The first time Emily woke, she was sore, cramped, and frightened. She was in a strange hotel room, tied to a chair. The ropes bit at her wrists, and the man who had attacked her was towering over her. He was terrifying. In his hand, he held the piece of paper with hastily scribbled addresses and phone numbers on it. There was a smirk on his face as he thanked her for the information. Then he asked her for more.

Emily refused to speak, and he hit her a few times. He wasn't overly angry or rough, and it was apparent he was just toying with her.

After awhile, he got bored and left her alone. He even fed her a greasy burger that night and some chicken the night after.

The chloroform came as a surprise. She blacked out almost instantly and, when she woke again, she was in a wooden room. The walls were faded planks, and she was lying on a jumble of blankets on a dusty floor. The ever present heat of Marda was missing, and she shivered in the almost chill air. The only light in the room came from a small window near the ceiling, which looked to be about ten feet up.

As she looked around, she was surprised to see that she wasn't alone. A man was curled up on another pile of blankets, his eyes closed and his skin pale. He looked as if he'd been hit several times, and his captor had been a lot more violent than hers. He was dressed in jeans and a nice shirt, and he was handsome under his bruises. 

Emily wondered if he was all right. 

She sat up slowly, pushing tangled blond hair out of her face. There was a gross taste in her mouth and a soft but insistent pounding in her head.

“Hey,” she say softly, but the man didn't stir.

Her stomach turned, but Emily was somehow able to get to her feet. They were bare, and the floor was rough against her soles. She winced as a pebble dug into them as she crossed the space between her and her fellow prisoner. She also couldn't help but notice the sundress that had been so white and pretty when she donned it was now tattered and grimy. Knowing she probably looked like a crazy woman, she hoped her appearance wouldn't frighten her cellmate.

He was still out cold when Emily knelt beside him. She ran her fingers down his face, which felt warm to the touch.

He grunted and blinked open eyes that looked to be a color between blue and gray. She saw the surprise go through them and quickly snatched her hand away.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

“Yes, I think so.” He had a nice voice. It was especially nice to hear its softness after her time with the harsh guard. “Who are you? Where did you come from?”

“I'm Emily Fry. I have no idea where we are or how we got here. The last thing I remember is being kidnapped in Marda.”

He went to sit up, so Emily moved back. She watched him critically, noting his slow movements.

“Do you know where we are?” she asked.

He shook his head. “I was in Chicago, but I don't believe that's where we are now. It's all rather fuzzy. Do you know why you were taken, Ms. Fry?”

“Yes.” She nodded. “They are after some friends of mine...”

She went cold all over as she remembered her captor gleefully holding the information he'd need to find Cheri, Meg, and Frannie.

“I think I was taken for a similar reason.” He touched his forehead gingerly and winced.

“Are you sure you're okay?”

“It stings a little. I'll be fine.”

“So you're from Chicago?” Emily prodded.

“Yes. My name is Constable Benton Fraser of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police.”

“You're a Mountie?” Emily frowned. “What were you doing living in Chicago?”

“I first went to Chicago on the trail of my father's killer. For reasons that are really unimportant at this juncture, I remained attached to the Canadian Consulate as Deputy Liaison Officer...”

“Which means?”

“I help improve Canadian-American relations by working with the Chicago police department to solve crimes as well as other duties assigned to me by my superior officer, who holds the position of Liaison Officer.”

“And you think you might be here because they want to get at your friends?”

“I'm fairly positive. From what I heard, and from the way they hit me without requesting information, it seems as if they wanted someone to see the results of their efforts.”

“Who?”

“My...” He trailed off as if he didn't know how to answer the question.

Emily pushed to her feet. “Do you know who has us?”

“No.”

“I do...I know...It's the group Frannie called The Terror.”

“Frannie?” Constable Fraser stiffened. “Are you speaking of Francesca Vecchio?”

Emily faintly remembered Frannie saying she had changed her last name because it had been very Italian and easy to remember. “I think so. She goes by Morris now. You know her?”

“Very well. You have seen Francesca?” He looked anxious.

“Yeah. Her and her partner, Meg, were with me in Marda.”

Constable Fraser ran a hand over his face before saying tiredly. “It appears we share some friends. I believe Meg is the person they are trying to lure here.”

“Meg? Why?”

“I'm not sure. Could you please tell me more about the terror you spoke of.”

“They're a terrorist rebel militia in Marda. You know what Frannie and Meg...uh...do, right?”

He nodded. “Yes. I am aware of their espionage activities.”

“Well the terror was part of their assignment. I thought it was over. Grayson is supposed to be dealing with them.”

“I think you'd better start at the beginning.”

Fraser had an honest and kind face, so she did as he asked. She started with her and her sister deciding to vacation in Marda and told him how she had ended up captured and locked up with Frannie. She told how they'd escaped and how Emily had suddenly found herself caught up in some sort of crazy spy thriller with guns and death and fear. She ended with being captured in her hotel and the ordeal that followed. Through it all, Fraser remained silent, absorbing every word.

“It sounds as if the terror wants some kind of revenge on Meg for what happened, but why target Meg?”

“I don't know. It doesn't make any sense,” Emily admitted. 

“I am assuming our captors are setting some kind of trap for her.”

“She's a smart lady. She'll figure it out.”

“I'm sure you are right,” he said, but he still looked worried.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just one more chapter after this one, and I'll be able to put my Nanowrimo 2012 story to bed.
> 
> Thanks, AnnieM, for sticking with this one from the beginning. I've decided to gift the story to you to show my appreciation. :)


	16. Chapter 16

The address left in Meg's note was about an hour out of Toronto, in a rural part of the province. Meg was even more exhausted than she had been when she got off the plane, but she hadn't wanted to wait to go get Fraser. She hadn't even bothered to change, though she had allowed Frannie to buy a sandwich at Tim Horton's on the way out of the city.

“I can't believe they took Benton,” Frannie commented as they zoomed down quiet roads.

“I wish I knew why.” Meg had been thinking about it all the way out of the city. If Fraser's kidnappers were La Terreur, what was their motivation? Why had they targeted Meg? She hadn't been the only one to free the prisoners, and Grayson Daniels had been working against them for years. It just didn't make sense. There had to be something she was missing, and she hated when there were pieces missing.

Frannie shrugged. “Whatever the reason, he'd better be all right when we get there.”

There was a spark in Frannie's eyes that Meg had never seen before. She knew how much Frannie loved and respected Fraser and she remembered how upset Frannie had been once when they both thought he had died. In fact, even though that had been before they were a couple, Meg had been pretty devastated herself.

“Do you know where you're going?” Frannie asked.

“I'm just following the signs. I asked for directions while you were getting your sandwich. We should be in the right place.”

“What I don't get is how they knew where we lived. As far as anyone knew, we were Janet and Stephanie Scott. No one there knew who we were...” Her eyes widened.

Meg frowned. “Except Cheri and Emily.”

“Do you think one of them was a bad guy?”

Meg shook her head. “It's more likely one of them was hurt for the information. Do you have their numbers?”

“Yeah, but Cheri won't be home yet.”

“Try her at the hotel.”

Frannie nodded and pulled out the shiny pink cell phone she carried when she was home in Toronto. She dialed the hotel from memory and Meg listened carefully to her conversation.

“Hello, is this Cheri?...It's Frannie...How are you doing? How long are you planning on staying?...Oh, where's Grayson?...Yes...Yes...Yes...No reason. Just checking in. Has anything happened since we left?...Have you heard from Emily?...Everything's fine...It's fine...Listen, I'll call you later. Bye.” Frannie hung up and said to Meg, “Cheri's fine. Nothing weird is happening. Grayson left to find out more today, but he was fine too. Whatever's going on, it doesn't have anything to do with them.'

“Good.” Meg felt her tension loosen a little. “Try Emily.”

Frannie dialed Emily's number. She waited silently for a long time before hanging up.

“No answer?” Meg asked.

“None. I'll try again when we get where we're...” She was interrupted when her phone rang. Giving Meg a puzzled look, she flipped it open and said, “Hello?”

“Who is it?” Meg asked.

Frannie held up a hand and started talking into her phone. “This is Frannie Morris. Who is this?...Are you Emily's sister?...No, no I haven't...When?...I'm sorry I bothered you. Could you call me when you know anything?...Yes, we're friends...Thank you...Bye.”

Meg really didn't like the sound of that phone conversation. “What happened?”

“Emily disappeared two days ago. The authorities sent her sister home to wait for news. It sounds like they're pretty sure she's dead.”

“That confirms it then,” Meg said coldly.

“Yeah, they snatched her to get to us.”

“Me,” Meg corrected. “If anything happens to either Emily or Fraser, it's my fault. I'm the one they wanted.”

“Don't think like that, Meg. They threw my place too, and if they found out your relationship to Benton, they could have found mine.”

“This seems so personal.”

“It will seem real personal to them when I'm blowing their heads off,” Frannie said darkly.

“So, this is Uxbridge,” Meg commented, choosing not to reply to Frannie's violent declaration. “There's not much here.”

“It's kind of peaceful...or at least it would be...”

“...if we didn't have to worry about our friends. What was that exact address again?”

The farm they found themselves driving up to looked mostly abandoned. Both the house and the barn had seen better days. The buildings leaned slightly, and their paint was cracked and peeling. Fences had once surrounded the property, but they had fallen and grass was growing up through the slats.

“This the place?” Frannie asked.

Meg looked around with a frown. There were several outbuildings, also in disrepair, and a garage that probably held a vehicle.

“It's not very well hidden,” Meg commented. “They could see us coming. They know we're here. Damn. I was hoping we could sneak up on them. With our luck, they'll shoot us through the windows, and we'll never know what hit us.”

“So, what are we going to do?”

“What else can we do? We're going to get Fraser.”

Frannie paled but nodded as she took her gun out of her purse. Meg would never tell Frannie, but it was at times like this that she found her friend especially brave. Frannie had never liked guns, she preferred not to shoot hem, but when she needed to, her gun came out without question.

Meg took out her own gun and tucked it into the waistband of her jeans. “Ready?”

“Yeah.”

“Let's go save Fraser and Emily.”

Meg felt eyes on her as soon as she got out of the car. It was hard, but she left her gun where it was. She studied the buildings carefully, wondering where she should go. By now, the creeps would have noticed she didn't have the money with her, but she didn't think it mattered. This wasn't about money; twenty-five thousand dollars was pocket change to an organization like La Terreur. This was about her. 

Calmly, Meg made her choice and went towards the barn. Frannie followed her, casting anxious glances at the house.

“Do you think they're watching us?” she whispered.

“Definitely.”

“From the house or from the barn?”

“I'm not sure, but they wouldn't keep Fraser and Emily in the house. It would be easier to keep them locked up in the barn. There's probably at least one guard in there, and the rest will come in after us.”

“That's what I think, too.”

“We'll probably be safe until we get inside, but be ready in case I'm wrong.”

“Right.”

Meg refused to look at the house as she strode nonchalantly across the overgrown front lawn.

The walk seemed to take forever, but they did eventually reach the barn. Meg slowly opened the big wooden door. The wooden bar used to lock it was leaning against the wall, showing someone was inside.

Meg lifted her shirt and slid out her gun. From the corner of her eye, she saw Frannie do the same. As far as she could figure, the two of them had a slight advantage. If the men who had kidnapped Fraser just wanted them dead, they would have shot them already. For some reason, they wanted Meg and Frannie alive—at least for now. If Meg and Frannie could exploit that, they—and Fraser and Emily—might just have a chance.

Meg took a deep, calming breath before slowly going inside. The interior of the barn was dim, though there were several small windows and one naked light bulb hanging from the ceiling. Stalls lined one wall. Along the other wall were piles of hay, and there was a ladder leading upwards to what was probably a loft. There was also a large, locked door with a gaunt man standing in front of it. He had a gun.

When he saw them, he smiled a nasty smile that chilled Meg to the bone. Beside her, Frannie let out a wild cry. Before Meg could even think to stop her—or decide whether she even wanted to—Frannie was rushing forward and shooting. The man died with the smirk still on his face.

Meg dashed after her friend, hoping to get inside the locked door before the men from the house arrived.

“Fraser?” she called.

“Meg?”

Her legs felt shaky with relief at his voice.

“And Francesca,” Frannie added grimly.

Meg gave her a feral grin before shooting at the lock holding the door closed. Sparks flew and the locked thunked to the ground.

“Be careful,” Fraser suggested. “They are waiting for you.”

“I know, and I am waiting for them.”

“Then, it appears your wait is over,” a cold voice behind her said.

She slowly turned around to see three men with guns trained on her and Frannie. Two of them were large with shaved heads and faces that looked as if they had been carved from stone. Between them was a tall, willowy man with curly light brown hair done up in a pony tail. He would have been very handsome if not for his cold black eyes. They were as unreadable as buttons.

“You are the lounge singer, Janet Scott, also known as former RCMP officer Meg Thatcher, I assume.” His accent wasn't as thick as the others, and he sounded as if he had spent some time in the city.

“I might be,” she said slowly, her grip tightening on her gun.

“And that would make you Stephanie Scott, sometimes known as Francesca Morris.” He frowned. “You, I couldn't find any information on.”

Frannie didn't answer, she just shifted into an aggressive pose.

“Put your guns down, ladies.”

“Why should we?” Frannie asked crossly.

“Because what you're about to go through will be a lot more painful with a hole in your leg.”

“Who are you, anyway?”

It suddenly clicked for Meg. “I think he's the leader of La Terreur, Frannie.”

“The guy G...uh...the Music Man is looking for?”

“One in the same.”

“Very good.” His smile was as cold as his eyes. “You've earned a gold star.”

“What I don't understand is what your interest is in us.”

“Besides the fact that you killed a shitload of my men? Don't worry, kids, everything will be revealed. Now drop the guns or I'll shoot you in the legs. My guess is that sometime in the next half hour or so, you're going to try to free my prisoners and escape. That'll be pretty hard if you can't walk.”

Meg shared a glance with Frannie before bending down to place her gun on the floor. She had a terrible feeling of deja vu, and this time there was no Frannie out there to show up at the right moment. They were going to have to find a way to save themselves from inside this mess.

Frannie put her gun down too, and one of the burly bald men came forward to pick them up. Meg was tempted to use this as her moment, but she knew it wouldn't work because she couldn't be sure Fraser and Emily would be safe.

“Stand against the wall,” La Terreur's leader said. “If you move, Javier there will shoot you.”

He indicated the other thug.

“My name is Diego, in case you're wondering who you should beg for your friends' lives.”

Meg and Frannie moved to the wall and the man who had taken their guns kicked the fallen guard out of the way and opened the door to reveal Fraser and Emily standing there.

Both of them looked worse for wear. Fraser's face was full of bruises and his lip was split. His normally pristine clothes were dirty and ripped, and he stood slightly hunched over. Emily didn't look any better. Her hair hung limply around a bruised face, and her blue eyes were wide with fright. The sundress that had been so cute in Marda now hung in tatters, and her feet were bare and dirty. She was hugging herself, but when she met Meg's eyes, she straightened and some of the steel Meg knew was behind her softness came to her face.

“Are you two okay?” Meg asked.

“We're fine,” Fraser assured her.

“For now,” Diego said with amusement. “Have you guessed why I've brought you here, Meg? Frannie?”

“It's us that you want,” Meg said, tearing her eyes from Fraser. “You can let them go.”

“No, I don't think I'll be doing that.”

Meg felt a sinking in the pit of her stomach. “Why not? You got what you wanted. We're here.”

“No, that's where you're wrong. You're not as smart as you think you are. You haven't figured it out yet.”

“Then why don't you tell me?” It took all she had to keep her tone Ice Queen calm.

“All right, maybe I will. You now know two people that I am. I am the leader of La Terreur, and I am Diego. But I'm someone else as well. Can you guess who, ladies?”

“I'm not playing your game, Diego,” Meg told him. “Either tell me or shoot me, but just get on with it.”

She saw a flash of anger go through his eyes, probably for stealing his thunder. She looked defiantly into his face, refusing to flinch.

“You're brave now,” he hissed, “but we'll see how brave you are when we start hurting people that you care about.”

She refused to answer, though he waited to see if she would. Frannie was just as silent beside her, and Meg was proud to see that she was learning to create her own emotionless mask. In their line of work, it was an asset, and Frannie had always been one to let anything she was thinking or feeling show on her face.

“So, who am I, you're wondering,” Diego continued. “And, even though you will not ask, I will tell you. I am a brother. Or should I say, I was a brother, but I am a brother no longer.”

“Oh!” Frannie gasped. “You're Mary's brother.”

Diego clenched and unclenched his hands, but his voice remained calm. “Yes, Mary was my sister...until one of you killed her.”

That explained a lot. Meg had always thought it was strange that such a male dominated group had a woman as its most deadly agent.

“You sent her to kill me,” Meg told him.

“Yes, after you had murdered several of my men.”

“Who had just shot dozens of innocent people.”

“There are no innocent people. The world is corrupt.”

“You kidnapped children for your work camp.”

He shrugged. “They had to learn to work the same as everyone else. If you start them young enough, they will become anything that you want.”

“And yet you are angry that we defended ourselves?”

“Yes,” he said simply, “and now you must pay the price. Because you murdered someone that I love, you will watch as we hurt and then kill people that you care about. It will not be pretty, and I assure you that you will be begging us to stop before it is over. Afterward, it will be your turn to die...slowly. You will regret killing my sister.”

Meg's gaze went to Fraser and Emily. She couldn't let them be tortured and murdered. She had to do something. Anything. Emily had been through enough for someone who was just a pre-school teacher from a small town up North, and Fraser...Her reserve almost evaporated in her fear for him. Now that she was facing his death, she suddenly knew for sure. She was in love with him. In fact, she might have always been in love with him.

She looked into his eyes and saw him watching her intently. When their gazes locked, he gave her a slow wink. Her chest tightened, and she had to look away. Meg hated feeling vulnerable.

“Shall we get started?” Diego asked.

He nodded at the henchman whose gun was trained on Fraser and Emily. The man went forward and grabbed Emily by the arm. She paled further but didn't make a sound.

Meg knew she and Frannie would have to do something quickly. If they waited too long, it would be too late. Once more, she looked at Fraser. She saw trust there...and something else. He was waiting for her to make a move. The man holding Emily was standing beside Fraser, his gun and attention on Emily. The other henchman's gun was pointed at Meg and Frannie, and Diego's attention was on them as well.

Meg wasn't sure how to signal her thoughts as a wild plan came into her head. It might not work, and one of them might get shot, but she couldn't see any other choice. She tensed and saw Fraser tense as well. No one was paying any attention to him, and the thug holding his gun on Meg and Frannie was looking at Frannie. Meg glanced at her too and lifted her eyebrows. There was an answering flicker in Frannie's eyes.

Then Frannie began to scream. The sound startled both Diego and the man watching the women. That second of inattention was all that Meg and Fraser needed. 

Meg lunged forward and grabbed the man in front of her, knocking his gun from his hand and roughly turning him. Diego's reaction was to shoot, and his bullet buried itself in the goon's chest. Meg held onto the terrorist like a shield as three more bullets whacked into him.

Frannie dove to the floor, retrieving the dropped pistol. Meg saw her from the corner of her eye, but was more interested in Fraser. At Frannie's scream, he had punched his captor in the side of the face. The man had fallen, and Fraser was now on top of him. They struggled and, even though Diego's goon was larger, Fraser seemed to be holding his own.

The henchman was still holding his gun, and it waved wildly as he fought with Fraser. It went off once...twice...three times. The bullets ricocheted around the room. Meg ducked behind her man-shield, and Emily dropped to the floor.

Frannie rose to her feet, getting off a shot of her own before falling with a cry.

“Frannie!” Meg exclaimed, but she didn't dare to lose her shield.

“I'm okay...dammit that hurts...” Frannie mumbled, shooting at Diego again.

Her shot was wild, but it managed to take Diego's leg out from under him. He fell heavily, dropping his gun. Meg let go of the body in her arms, and it fell heavily to the floor. She ignored it and ran over to Diego. 

He struggled to get up, so Meg kicked him in the wounded leg. He stopped moving, and his face went completely white.

Meg scooped up his gun and pointed it at him. “Don't move, asshole.”

“Meg, there is no need for profanity,” Fraser said.

Meg glanced at him sideways. He was sitting on the floor alongside his unconscious adversary. Emily was already jumping to her feet. To her credit, she looked queasy but in control as she ran over to Frannie. 

“How is she?” Meg asked, her gun still trained on Diego.

“I'm fine,” Frannie said.

“She's shot,” Emily said over her. “I don't think it's bad, though...Here, Frannie, let me have a look.”

“What are you doing?” Frannie growled.

“First aid, now move your arm.”

“”Where was she shot?” Meg asked, not turning her head.

“In the shoulder.”

“The shoulder?”

“Yes, but it just nicked her. It's bleeding quite a bit but I think I can get it to stop, and I don't think there's a bullet in there. She should be all right, but she'll need stitches.”

“Is that your professional opinion?” Frannie ground out. Meg could tell it was through clenched teeth.

“I've seen my share of wounds. I deal with four year olds. Now, hold still.”

There was the sound of tearing cloth, but Meg kept her eyes on Diego.

“Fraser?” she asked.

“Yes?”

“Could you look around and see if there's anything we could tie this...man up with?”

“All right.” He tucked the unconscious man's gun in his jeans and got to his feet.

“I should kill you for what you've done,” she said angrily to Diego.

“But you can't shoot an unarmed man?” Diego gasped out a laugh.

“Something like that.”

“It's a good thing I don't have that problem,” a new voice said, and Meg jumped back in shock as a shot rang out and Diego slumped backwards, his eyes staring at the ceiling.

“What the...”

She looked towards the voice and saw Grayson standing in the doorway, his face stormy.

“Grayson?”

“Hi, Meg.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I was in the neighborhood,” he said this calmly as he tucked his gun into a shoulder holster. “Anyone want to tell me what happened here?”

“Who's this?” Fraser asked, coming back with the now useless rope in his hand.

“Grayson Daniels.” Grayson nodded at him. “CIA...Where's Emily?”

“Emily?” Meg asked, still a little stunned.

“Grayson?” This time it was Emily. She got to her feet, swiping blond hair off of her face. “How did you know we were here?”

“You know it was my job to find him.” He walked in and kicked Diego's body. “I was just following the clues. Is everyone all right?”

Grayson said everyone, but his eyes were still on Emily.

“Yeah, we're all fine, more or less,” Frannie said, struggling to her feet. “If you don't count this bullet wound.”

“You were shot?”

“Yeah, and it hurts like a bugger.”

“Are you okay?”

“She needs to get to an emergency room,” Emily said firmly.

“What happened?”

“When did you find out Diego was the leader?” Meg asked.

“Right after you guys left. I was able to persuade someone to someone to tell me.”

Meg winced. She knew what “persuade” meant in his terms.

“I was taken right after I left you guys the last time,” Emily told him. “They took me so they could find out how to hurt Meg.”

“Did they hurt you?”

She shook her head. “Not much.”

“You have bruises on your face. Fucking bruises.” He angrily took out his gun and shot Diego again.

Emily flinched. “I'm fine.”

“Dammit, dammit, dammit, how did this happen?”

“If you'll stop swearing and waving your gun around, we'll tell you,” Meg told him calmly.

“You could have all been killed.”

“But we weren't. This is Constable Benton Fraser, by the way.”

Grayson looked Ben over. “Hey.”

“Hello.” Fraser held out his hand.

Grayson shook it firmly. “How do you play into all this?”

“He was taken to hurt me,” Meg said. “It's not important. What is important is that the leader of La Terreur is dead.”

“Yeah, and you're gonna tell me how that happened, right?”

“Right, but first let's get Frannie, Fraser, and Emily to the ER.”

“I'm fine,” Fraser and Emily said in unison.

“I'll believe it when a doctor tells me.”

“Me too,” Grayson agreed.

XXX

It had been a long week. A very long week. A very, very, very long week but, finally, it was over. Surprisingly, Meg was a little disappointed that she didn't get to sing.

She thought of this as she settled next to Fraser on her couch. He was wearing some sweat pants and a Henley Meg had picked him up at Wal-Mart, and Meg was wearing her flannel pajamas and fluffy slippers. The scene felt so domestic that it was hard to believe that just a few hours before they had been fighting for their lives.

She sighed, setting down two mugs of marshmallow filled hot chocolate and snuggling into him. Taking a deep breath, she filled her lungs with him and tried not to think about almost losing him.

Fraser hesitated a moment before putting his arm around her and drawing her even closer. He placed a lingering kiss on her temple that warmed her more than the hot chocolate ever could.

“Thank you, Meg, for coming to save me.”

“You're not going to tell me that it was foolish...or too dangerous?”

“No, of course not.” In all the years she'd known him, Fraser had never once questioned her competence.

“I thought we did pretty well...I wish Frannie hadn't been shot.”

“Yes, that was unfortunate, but she is fine.”

“I know, but I still feel as if it's my fault. I should have been able to protect her.”

“Francesca is a grown woman, Meg. She was trained for situations like these.”

Meg nodded. “And she did wonderfully. I must remember to tell her so.”

“We'll tell her tomorrow...together.”

This made Meg smile. “I like the sound of that...Speaking of together, did you see the way Grayson was smiling at Emily?”

“I never noticed.”

“How could you miss it? I think he wanted to save Emily as much as he wanted to catch Diego, and he's been after him for five years.”

“Perhaps.”

“Maybe I'm just seeing romance everywhere.”

His fingers trailed along her cheek. “Why do you suppose that is?”

The warmth spread through her and she smiled softly. “Did I tell you how glad I am that you're alive?”

He gave her a soft kiss on the mouth and then on the cheek. “Likewise.”

_The End_

**Author's Note:**

> AnnieM wrote a story tag for this story. It can be found here: [It Just Dawned on Me](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8401390)
> 
> Thanks, Annie!


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